by Lily Morton
The door swings open, and my twin sister stands in front of me. Her brown hair is styled in a sharp bob, and she’s wearing a sleek black dress and looking as lovely as ever. My mother fervently believes that Lennie robbed me of my sense of style when we were in the womb.
“Oh my God, Laurie,” she exclaims and pulls me into a tight hug. I inhale the scent of Dior perfume and hug her back.
After a few seconds, she pulls back and smiles at me. Her eyes are suspiciously shiny. “It’s been too long,” she scolds me. “I hate that you live so far away in France. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
She’s never been inclined to accept bullshit. This is proved when she blows a raspberry. “Well, that’s good because you look fucking terrible.”
I laugh. “Tell it like it is, Lennie.”
She rolls her eyes. “You do, though.” She pushes my hair back from my face, and I can’t help but remember Mags doing the same a week ago. I force the memory away.
“You’re too thin,” she observes. “And you look like you haven’t slept in a few months.”
“I’m fine,” I say firmly.
She grimaces and steps back to let me in. I know it won’t take long before she returns to her subject, and I’m proved correct a few seconds later.
“I just hate it,” she says, her voice now tight with tears. “I nearly lost you.”
“Hey,” I say, hugging her and kissing the top of her head. “Where’s this coming from, Troll Doll? You saw me in the hospital. You know I’m fine.”
She gives a wet chuckle at the old childhood nickname that stems from a particularly bad haircut she had once. My mother had decided to save money and cut her children’s hair on one of our holidays. The end result was that Lennie didn’t come out of the caravan for the week and the rest of us scattered every time my mother brought out her hairdressing scissors.
Lennie sniffs and hugs me tighter. Footsteps sound and I look up and smile at the sight of Chris, her husband.
“Help,” I say.
He smiles. “No help for you,” he says, throwing his arms around the two of us and adding his own crushing embrace.
After a few seconds, I cough. “Can’t breathe,” I choke.
“Oh my God,” my sister says shrilly as she jumps back. “Is it the injuries from the accident?”
I stare at her. “Jesus Christ, no. It’s your husband. He’s got a grip like a gorilla.”
Chris gives a hearty laugh. “I’ve got a cock like one too. Come on, the two of you. We’ve got a room full of fucking guests. No time to wallow in emotion.”
My sister rolls her eyes and reaches out to pinch him. He dodges and draws her under his arm, where she instantly relaxes.
“We should have just had dinner with the three of us,” she says. “But it’s a celebration, and I wanted you here.”
“I know.” I hand Chris the bottle of champagne I’m holding. “Congratulations. You made partner.”
He shrugs. “Meh, it’s fine.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t even try to contain your joy.”
He does a strange robotic celebration dance as we laugh, and then he pats my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says sobering up. “For a while there, I didn’t think we’d be able to have this again. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you proved everyone wrong.”
I smile. After all the years he’s been in the family, Chris is more brother than brother-in-law. He’s older than me and Lennie. He met her in her first week at uni when he was doing a postgraduate degree, and she walked into him and made him drop a tray of beer. They’ve been inseparable ever since.
“I’m fine,” I say once again.
“You’re too thin,” my sister interjects.
“It’ll come back,” I say blithely. “I’m putting on weight, but it’s slow. You know how I’ve got a fast metabolism.”
My weight is unlikely to come back when I can’t eat because of the crushing migraines, but the lie is worth it to see her relax a little more.
“Another reason to hate you,” she says, her eyes gleaming with laughter. She eyes me appraisingly. “You do clean up well, Laurie.”
I look down at my grey suit. “I think that’s mainly because of Hugo Boss.”
“If only he dressed you all the time.”
I raise my middle finger at her. “So, who’s here?” I ask Chris as I hand him my raincoat.
“Mostly work people and a few old friends from uni who I don’t think you’ve ever met.”
“I thought I’d met all of your friends.”
“Not Magnus. He was away in Russia when we got married.”
I freeze. It can’t be him. Surely he’d be dick deep in another twink on a Friday night. “Magnus?” I say in a hopefully careless way.
He nods. “He’s my best friend from uni. You’ve heard me talk about him. He lives opposite Luke.”
I want to scream. I’d never met the man until a couple of weeks ago, and now he’s bloody everywhere.
Chris pauses. “Which means he lives opposite you at present, as you’ve been housesitting. Have you had a chance to meet?”
“Oh, we’ve met,” I say.
My sister darts a sharp glance at me, but Chris immediately grins.
“You’ll get on,” he says enthusiastically. “He’s a fantastic bloke. Very successful QC.”
“Yep,” I say grimly.
My sister starts to say something, but she’s interrupted when the man in question pops his head around the door. He doesn’t see me at first as I’m standing to the side. He’s dressed in a navy suit and looks as perfect as ever. “Are we having dinner?” he asks. “Or was the invite actually for breakfast?”
My sister shakes her head, a smile tugging at her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I forgot the memo about the world revolving around you.”
I laugh before I can help myself, and Mags turns and does a double take when he sees me. “Laurie?” he says. “What are you doing here?”
I gesture at Lennie. “My sister made me come,” I inform him.
He looks at her and chuckles. “Why didn’t I notice the family resemblance? It’s so obvious now that I know the truth.”
“We don’t look the same at all,” my sister says in a puzzled voice.
“Oh, I know,” he says. “But you each definitely got more than your fair share of the bossy gene.”
My sister laughs, and I focus on her for a second to get my equilibrium back. I haven’t seen Mags for a week—not since he had to support me home and put me to bed. My cheeks burn at the memory. He’d come knocking the next day, but I’d pretended to be out. He’d tried again that evening and then seemed to get the hint and didn’t bother again. I was embarrassed, yes, but that didn’t excuse being impolite, and I owe him an apology.
Lennie’s gaze darts from Mags to me. “It’s so lovely that you’ve finally had the chance to meet.” I sincerely hope Mags doesn’t hear the barely suppressed glee in her voice. She’s been trying to set me up with him for years.
Mags glances at me, and I suspect he’s thinking back to the last time he’d seen me after he’d had to help me into bed. However, he just smiles. “Yes, Laurie and I finally met. It was at rather an awkward moment in my life.”
“Not as awkward as the moment the man with the accessorised penis was experiencing.”
“What?” Chris asks.
Before Mags can reply, a young man walks out of the lounge. He’s beautiful, with a long willowy body and a head full of blond curls.
“Here you are, Magnus,” he says.
Mags turns to him. “Yes,” he says. There’s an uncomfortable silence, and I repress a smile because it’s evident that Mags doesn’t know his name.
“My glass is empty,” the young man says winsomely.
Mags hesitates, and I want to laugh. “And that is certainly a problem,” he finally says. “But not really mine.”
The younger man smiles at him. “You need to g
et me a drink.” He leans closer. “I’m very friendly when I’ve got a drink inside me.” He winks. “And other things.”
He waltzes back into the lounge, and there’s another very long second of silence which I break by laughing.
Mags shakes his head at me, a smile tugging at his mouth, and turns to my brother-in-law. “Why is he acting as though he’s a rather feral cat, and I’m tonight’s dinner?”
Chris grimaces. “Sorry. I thought you’d like him. He’s your type.”
I nod when Mags glances at me. “I’m sorry. He really is your type. Check for the ribbon on his person.”
Mags sighs. “I’d better go back in.” He moves to the lounge door and then turns back. “Put me next to Laurie at dinner,” he instructs my sister.
“Why on earth should I do that?” There’s a smile playing on her mouth. “I happen to like my brother.”
“Because I want intelligent conversation tonight, and he’s probably the only one capable of giving it.”
“Charming,” Chris says. “Did you forget me?”
“No,” Mags says patiently, grinning at Chris before vanishing back into the lounge.
I can’t help my laughter, and my sister shakes her head. “It’s a good job I love him. No one else would get away with demanding the hostess change her seating arrangement five minutes before dinner is served.”
“He could,” Chris says. “He’s the darling of the dinner party circuit.”
“Makes him sound like Lewis Hamilton with a tray,” I observe.
He laughs. “He’s too charming. It’s always been his problem.”
“I suppose I’d better do it for him,” Lennie says with a put-upon sigh.
I nudge her. “Stop looking so martyrish. You probably did the table seating by drawing straws anyway.”
She grins. “You’d be right.”
She wanders off into the dining room, and I follow Chris into the lounge.
Mags is standing by the fireplace. The blond young man is next to him, and a group of three men and two women are listening to Mags speak, obviously hanging on every word. The group burst into laughter when Mags finishes whatever story he’s telling.
Chris nudges me. “Drink?” he asks.
I nod, and he moves away, knowing my drink order, as well as he knows that I hate mayonnaise.
My sister appears at the door. “Dinner’s ready,” she says, raising her voice over the hum of conversation. “Come on through.”
The group moves en masse, and Mags comes up next to me. “I think we might be seat partners.”
“How utterly thrilling.”
He grins, and my sister intercepts us at the door. “I’ve done as you wished,” she says to Mags. “It might be easier for people if you just wore a crown from now on.”
“It would blind you with its glowing light. You are definitely not worthy,” he informs her, and she shoves him.
“Table looks nice,” I say to her. The oak table has a starched white runner and is ablaze with candles and sparkling glassware. White roses lend a sweet scent to the room. “Thank God, you stuck to laying out plates and glasses and let someone else cook.”
Mags breaks into such loud laughter that everyone stops talking and looks around.
My sister slaps my arm. “Smart arse,” she says. “You and he deserve each other.”
The comment startles me for some reason, and when I meet her gaze, there’s a sparkle in her eyes that tells me I’m fucked. She has always liked interfering in my life, as if by being blessed with a vagina, she knows everything better than me.
A woman calls to her, and before Lennie darts away, she levels a look at me that says we’ll be talking soon.
“Great,” I groan.
Mags looks at me enquiringly.
“Lennie is going to question me,” I say.
“Nothing to tell,” he says, finding his place card at the end of the table.
“She’s what the Spanish Inquisition would aspire to be. In the old days she’d have been running training seminars for them.”
He chuckles, and we sit down. Introductions are immediately performed, and I smile genially around, already knowing I won’t remember anyone. People aren’t really my strong point, and I lack small talk. My sister is already chatting happily with the woman next to her. Lennie must have got my share of that as well.
I turn to Mags to find him watching me. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, unfurling his napkin as the waiting staff arrive to serve our starters. “You just have a very expressive face.”
“Have I? No one has ever said that before.”
His smile is wide and far too charming. “People are my bread and butter. I spend a lot of hours every day observing their expressions and gestures.”
“Poor you. I paint them and forget them just as easily.”
The smile plays on his full mouth, and I find my eyes fixing on those wickedly curling lips. I remind myself not to be stupid, but when I look down, I notice his big hands and their prominent veins. I’d like to draw them, I think idly, wishing for a piece of paper and a pencil.
I scrutinize my own hands, my nails bitten down to the quick and the cuticles stained with paint. I scrub them hard whenever I shower, but I think at this stage, the paint is a permanent feature.
Conversation flows around us, becoming louder as everyone drinks their weight in wine. Mags seems to know everyone and does not attempt to speak to me, regardless of his assertion that I was his only intelligent company. Irritation stirs, but I push it down and turn determinedly to the lady sitting to my right. We become involved in a discussion about kitchen design, but I’m not sure I hold up my end of the conversation.
I turn back to Mags to find his eyes intent on me. “I need to apologise to you,” I say softly.
He takes a sip of his wine, his brown eyes warm and curious. “What for? Hiding in your flat?”
“You knew?” I say before I can think better.
He smiles. “Your silence has a rather deafening quality.”
I hesitate. “Well, I am sorry. It was rude. I should have said thank you.”
“Ack. Please don’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to be thanked. It’s very tedious.”
“You are a strange man.”
He chuckles, and the sound is rich and warm. “It has been said. How are you feeling now? Any more migraines?”
“No. None at all.” It’s a complete lie, and I can tell that he knows it. “Thank you for looking after me,” I say hurriedly. “Especially as it was my silly fault that you had to.”
His brow furrows. “Why? You had a headache. It couldn’t be helped.”
“It could have been if I’d taken my medication in time. I was enjoying the walk, and I didn’t pay attention.”
I hadn’t paid attention, because I’d been so determined to get the most out of my outing with him. I’d spent that morning sitting around the flat and moping endlessly about my future. The walk with Mags had been a much-needed escape from my thoughts, but he isn’t to know that.
His gaze is contemplative, but it turns into polite enquiry as the man opposite speaks to him.
“I missed your birthday party, Magnus. Was it good?”
“Define good,” he says with a wicked curl of his lips.
The other man chuckles.
“When was your birthday?” I ask, stunned that I’m interested.
“A few months ago. You didn’t miss much. Birthdays after fifty are never much fun.”
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Fifty-two. You?”
“Forty-eight.”
We gaze at each other for a long second, and then the man asks, “So how are you finding middle age, Magnus?”
“Surprisingly tedious. I was astounded to find that adverts for funerals are aimed at anyone over the age of fifty. As if I blew out my candles and immediately needed to be carried out of my flat feet first.”
I laug
h. “How long does it take to find your birthdate on those dial things on applications?”
His mouth twitches. “I could have run a marathon by the time the dial has finished spinning.” Everyone laughs, and he turns to me. “You’re no spring chicken yourself, Laurie.”
“Magnus!” the lady by my sister gasps. “How rude.”
“It’s the truth,” my sister says lazily, so I shoot her the middle finger.
“Tell me a peril of getting old,” Mags orders me.
I shrug. “That I can now predict the weather using my left knee joint.”
The table bursts into laughter, and conversation becomes general. We finish our meal and make our way back into the lounge where Chris serves some more of his extremely strong drinks. This is the key to Chris and Lennie’s success at giving dinner parties. They get their guests so pissed that they presume they’ve had a good time.
I notice Magnus is absorbed in conversation with the blond man. Even as I watch, Magnus bursts into laughter. I repress a tinge of irritation and draw my sister into conversation.
A few hours later, the dinner party starts to break up, and I find Magnus at my side. “Hello,” I say, smiling lazily up at him. I’m comfortably ensconced on the sofa and feeling sleepy. “What’s up?”
“Would you like to share a taxi? I think we’re going the same way.”
I struggle out of the octopus-like grip of my sister’s furniture.
Lennie looks over. “Are you going, Laurie?”
I nod. “Mags and I might as well share a taxi back.”
“Oh, of course.” Her tone sounds innocent, but I know how satanic she really is. I give her a repressive look that doesn’t work.
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” she says, her smile widening.
“Why does that always sound like such a threat?”
“Because it is.” Chris laughs loudly.
Giving everyone a genial smile, I make my way out to the hall where Mags is waiting with my raincoat in his hands.
I take it from him and shrug into it while he pokes his head into the lounge and says goodnight. The response is much more enthusiastic than the one I got, and I’m smiling wryly when he turns around.
“What?” he says.
