No Sister of Mine (ARC)

by Vivien Brown

  thumb placed loosely in her mouth. As I leaned over the side of the cot to kiss her goodnight, all I could smell was Eve’s perfume, as if she had left a little of herself behind in my house, imprinted on my daughter’s skin.

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  CHAPTER 15

  EVE

  It was one of those lazy Sunday mornings, early in August, and I’d spent ages being unusually

  domesticated, making real lemonade and a fat, squidgy ginger cake. Simon was stretched out

  on my one and only sun lounger, engrossed in the sports pages of his newspaper as he munched

  on a thick slice of the cake, flicking crumbs across the lawn for the birds and wiping his sticky hands down his jeans.

  ‘What do you fancy for lunch?’ he said, looking up and peering at me above the

  sunglasses that had slipped, sweatily, down his nose.

  ‘Lunch?’ I rested my elbows on the small patio table and sipped my drink, trying not to

  pull a face at its unexpected sourness, making a mental note that more sugar was needed next

  time. ‘It’s just gone eleven, and we’ve only just had . . . well, elevenses! You can’t be hungry again already.’

  ‘No, no, thinking ahead, that’s all. Wondered if you’d like to take a walk to the pub

  later and grab a roast maybe. I could ring and book us a table.’

  ‘Thanks, Si, but it’s such a nice day, I’d rather stay here, and I’m not sure I could eat

  anything heavy. I could do us a salad?’

  ‘Salad? I’m a growing lad!’

  ‘You grow much more and you won’t fit through the door. Now, stop thinking about

  food and help me with the crossword.’

  ‘Me, help you? Now I know you’re having a laugh. Give me A Question of Sport and

  I’m your man, but show me an anagram or one of those cryptic thingies and I don’t have a

  clue.’ He laughed, loudly. ‘Ha! Just made a joke there, I think. Clue! Get it?’

  ‘Fine. You get back to your sports pages and leave the intellectual stuff to me.’ I

  adjusted the flimsy parasol that was fluttering above my head and moved my plastic chair round

  a bit, to keep the sun off my face.

  ‘Don’t knock it, Eve. It’s what makes us such good friends, you know. Our differences.

  Chalk and cheese, that’s us. I mean, we wouldn’t want both of us battling over that puzzle,

  trying to outdo each other, would we? You see it on trains. A couple of businessmen huddled

  over their own copies of The Times crossword, desperate to be the first to finish it, probably filling in any old rubbish in the boxes just so it looks like they’ve cracked it. All that rivalry.

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  It’d be the same if we were both runners, or tennis players. Always vying to be the fastest, or the best, trying to beat each other. No, I like it this way.’

  ‘Me too, actually.’ I put my pen down and looked at him. ‘We complement each other,

  don’t we?’

  ‘What? Like me telling you how clever you are and you telling me I’m the best hooker

  you’ve ever seen?’

  ‘Not that sort of compliment, you dummy.’ I rolled up my paper and flicked it at his

  arm. ‘And, you may have the morals of an alley cat, but why would I call you a hooker?’

  Simon roared with laughter. ‘Oh dear, you really don’t know anything about rugby, do

  you? I’ll explain it all to you one of these days.’

  ‘Is it anything like the rules of cricket? All that being in when you’re out and out when

  you’re in stuff?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Let’s not bother then, eh? Sport’s not my thing.’

  ‘And messing around with words isn’t mine. But I love you anyway. Best buddies?’

  ‘Always.’

  We sat in silence for a while, enjoying the sunshine and the last of the lemonade. When

  I looked up to swat a persistent wasp away from the sugary rim of the empty jug, I saw that

  Simon had nodded off to sleep, his face, usually so pale and freckly, already turning redder

  than it should. I had a wide-brimmed straw hat in the flat somewhere and I went in to find it,

  although I was not entirely sure it would fit Simon’s head, which was considerably bigger than

  mine. Failing that, I’d just have to wake him up and get him to move into the shade.

  I had the contents of the hall cupboard out all over the carpet when the intercom buzzed,

  and still no hat. I was expecting the caller to be some sort of door-to-door salesman or a

  neighbour asking if Simon could please move his car. A nuisance, but easy enough to get rid

  of. I picked up the handset by the front door, and there was the hat, which had clearly been

  hiding all along, right there beside me, wedged between two winter jackets and a mac on the

  coat stand.

  ‘Hello?’ I tugged at the hat and managed to free it, knocking the mac onto the floor in

  the process.

  ‘Eve? Is that you?’

  It couldn’t be! But it definitely was. I would have known that voice anywhere.

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  ‘Josh? What are you doing here?’ My heart was thumping nineteen to the dozen. ‘Is everything all right? With Sarah? Janey? Mum and Dad?’

  ‘Everything’s fine.’

  I was aware that I was just standing there, shocked into silence, rolling the battered old

  hat around in my hand, the contents of a cupboard scattered at my feet.

  ‘Eve? Are you still there? Can I come in, do you think? Or are you going to leave me

  out here on the step?’

  I pushed the button that opened the main door, pulled my own door open, and watched

  him walk across the communal hallway towards me. He was smartly dressed – too smartly

  really, for a summer Sunday – and he was carrying a bunch of roses. White roses, wrapped in

  cellophane, with a yellow bow.

  ‘For you,’ he said, thrusting them forward and leaning in to peck my cheek. ‘A sort of

  peace offering, as I’ve turned up uninvited.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It is all right, isn’t it? Me coming here? You’re not . . . well, busy, or entertaining or

  anything?’

  ‘Entertaining?’ I had visions of me doing a twirl while singing into a microphone. ‘Oh,

  you mean do I have a man here? Did you interrupt me having passionate daytime sex? Afraid

  not. Just my friend Simon. He’s out in the garden, having a nap. But, of course, you’ve met

  Simon, haven’t you? At your party.’

  ‘Oh, then maybe I should go?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Not when you’ve come all this way.’ I stood aside and ushered him in,

  nudging the pile of cupboard stuff away with my foot and closing the door behind him. ‘Why

  have you come all this way anyway?’

  ‘I had to come to Cardiff for a conference. Starts properly tomorrow, but there’s a meet-

  and-greet and a dinner this evening. I had a few hours to kill, it’s too early to check in at the hotel, and I knew you were nearby. I’ve parked outside on a yellow line. I assume that’s okay

  on a Sunday? Not likely to get a fine? Look, you really are sure about me being here? This

  Simon bloke isn’t going to mind?’

  ‘Mind what?’ Simon had come in from the garden and was standing in the open

  doorway that led from the kitchen to the hall, rubbing his eyes, one half of his face decidedly redder than the other. ‘Ah, it’s Josh, isn’t it? The errant ex.’

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  I laughed, or tried to, and popped the straw hat on top of Simon’s head, where it wobbled a bit before tipping over one eye. ‘And now my brother-in-law!’ I gave him a warning scowl.
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br />   I could see Simon give a slight shake of his head. He removed the hat and tucked it

  under his arm, still staring at the two of us as if he wasn’t sure what he was expected to do next.

  ‘Sorry, Si, but do you mind going back outside? With your face shaded this time! And

  I’ll bring us all out a coffee in a minute. I just want a few words with Josh first, okay?’

  ‘If you’re sure. Call if you need me, okay?’ He went, I could tell a bit reluctantly,

  although he didn’t make it too obvious, and I led Josh through to my small living room and

  pointed to an armchair.

  ‘I’ll just put the kettle on and do something with the flowers. Coffee all right? Or would

  you prefer tea? I expect I have a bottle of wine somewhere.’

  ‘It’s a bit early, and I’m driving, remember?’ He sank back into the cushions and smiled

  up at me. ‘No need to fuss. Coffee’s fine. White. No sugar.’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’

  In the kitchen I leaned on the counter and took a big, deep breath, waiting for the water

  to boil and my heart to stop pumping out a rhythm like some old over-heated steam train. I

  hadn’t seen him on his own, away from my sister, for years. I wasn’t sure how that made me

  feel, or even if I had ever truly forgiven him for what he had done. But now Josh Cavendish

  was here, in my home, and I had no idea why.

  I could see Simon through the kitchen window. He had moved into the chair I had been

  using, under the parasol, and was leafing through my newspaper, his own abandoned on the

  sun lounger, alongside the hat. His jaw was moving up and down, very slightly, as if he was

  grinding his teeth, and I knew he was probably holding back a lot of what he would really like

  to say. I had told him enough about my relationship with Josh, and how it had ended, for him

  to have formed a pretty strong opinion of him – and it wasn’t a good one.

  ‘So?’ I handed Josh his coffee and sat down on the chair opposite.

  ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, Eve. There is no so. No hidden agenda. I was in the

  area, I had time on my hands, and I’ve never seen where you live. Call it curiosity if you like.’

  He blew over the surface of his coffee, took the smallest of sips, then put it down on the table in front of him. ‘Bit too hot.’

  ‘Does Sarah know you’re here?’

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  ‘In Cardiff, yes, if she was even listening when I told her where I was going. I’m sure she just tunes out most of the time when I talk about work. But here in your flat, no. I didn’t know myself until an hour or so ago. It was a spur of the moment decision.’

  ‘Yet you just happened to have my address with you?’

  ‘Okay, so I looked it up in her little address book thing before I left home. Just in case,

  that’s all . . .’

  ‘Well, it’s nice to see you.’ Was it? But then, what else was I meant to say? Bugger off,

  you bastard? All I felt at that moment was confused. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to

  love him, hate him, treat him with indifference, or just accept him now for what he had become.

  My sister’s husband.

  ‘Nice?’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Is that the best you can do? Do you remember that

  conversation we had once, about that word? Whether it was poetic enough for you?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Come on, Eve, you must do. It was the evening you whacked me round the head like

  you were fending off Jack the Ripper and ran off into the night! I never did really understand

  what that was all about.’

  ‘I have never whacked you round the head. And I honestly can’t see any point in

  dredging all that up again. Now, why don’t you pick up your mug and we’ll go out into the

  garden and you can meet Simon properly. You were far too busy with your own friends to pay

  him any attention at your party, and I don’t see why I should neglect my invited guest for the

  sake of my uninvited one, do you?’

  ‘Sometimes, Eve, I have no idea whether you’re joking or you’re actually telling me

  off.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, not knowing the answer myself. ‘I like to be an enigma. Keep you on

  your toes.’ I stood up and led the way back to the kitchen, where I’d left Simon’s coffee waiting on the side. ‘But if you behave yourself,’ I added, as I picked up the mug in my free hand and

  we stepped out into my small garden, ‘and act like a brother-in-law is supposed to, I might

  even let you stay for lunch.’

  I did try to keep the conversation flowing, but it wasn’t easy. Josh and Simon glared at

  each other across the garden table like a pair of stags squaring up for a fight, and although they both spoke easily enough to me, I don’t think they said more than a few words to each other.

  ‘I think I’ll be making a move now,’ Simon said eventually, stretching as he pulled

  himself up to his full height and rescued his paper from the lounger.

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  ‘You sure? What about lunch?’ I stood, took a couple of steps around to the other side of the table and tugged him into a hug.

  ‘Think I might head off to the pub for one of those roasts you didn’t fancy. Watch the

  Formula One on their big-screen TV. Leave you two to talk . . .’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure. You’re welcome to stay, you know. My little telly can’t compete

  with theirs, but there’s plenty of food here.’

  ‘Not really in a salad mood. See you soon, eh?’ He kissed the top of my head and held

  out a hand, stiffly, towards Josh. ‘Don’t bother coming to the door, Eve. I can see myself out.’

  ‘Well, that was a bit awkward, wasn’t it?’ Josh said as soon as Simon had gone. ‘The

  man is so obviously jealous.’

  I laughed. ‘Jealous? What of? You?’

  ‘Well, I did come crashing in and wreck his plans, didn’t I?’

  ‘Plans?’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean. A sit in the sun, a pub lunch, just the two of you. Very

  cosy. And he’s just a friend, you say? Looked more than that to me. Looked like he was settled

  in for the rest of the day, until I turned up. The night too, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘Josh! It’s not what you think. Not that it’s any of your business. Now, tell me why

  you’re really here. I don’t buy all the “just passing” nonsense.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ He reached across the small gap between our chairs and laid his hand on

  my bare arm. ‘I still think about you, Eve. What we used to have. I still care about you.’

  I knew I shouldn’t, knew I really didn’t want to, but I felt it anyway, as soon as he

  touched me. The same spark I had felt all those years ago, when we were young and free and

  single. I pulled my arm away from him, quickly. ‘No, Josh. Whatever it is you’re thinking, the

  answer is no. You’re not allowed to care about me anymore. Not in that way. You’re married.

  To my sister.’

  ‘I don’t need you to remind me of that, Eve. But it doesn’t stop what I feel, does it? Or

  what I remember? We had some good times, didn’t we? At uni. And then, when you came to

  the house that day, to the party, in that little shiny dress, and with him – that Simon – hanging on your arm, and on your every word . . .’

  ‘It wasn’t like that. Not like that at all. Simon and I . . . oh, never mind. No, it strikes

  me that you’re the one who’s jealous, not him.’

  ‘You could be right.’ He grabbed my hand and trapped it between his own. ‘I made a

  mistake, Eve.
A big, bloody awful mistake, that I’m still paying for. Every day of my life. And 116

  I’ve never had the chance to tell you that. I thought that now, here, miles away from everybody, while it’s just us, I might be able to say a proper sorry, and maybe even . . .’

  ‘Maybe even what?’

  ‘I told you once that I loved you. Only once. Do you remember?’

  I nodded, the warmth of his hands seeping into my skin.

  ‘But you didn’t say it back. Not then. Not ever. I suppose I just need to know whether

  you did. Love me, I mean.’

  ‘And what possible good would it do, to either of us, for me to tell you that now? It’s

  been seven years. Seven years too late. And it wouldn’t matter how many times you said it to

  me back then, would it? Not if it was just words. You clearly didn’t love me for real. Not

  enough, anyway, because you made your choice, and it wasn’t me. We can’t go back. No matter

  how much . . .’

  ‘What? No matter how much you might want to?’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘I’d go back in a heartbeat if I could,’ he said, his voice little more than a whisper. ‘To

  be with you, stay with you, have you still in my life.’

  ‘But aren’t you forgetting something, Josh? Like why you cheated on me in the first

  place. I wouldn’t sleep with you, remember? Is that why you’re here? Unfinished business?

  Hurt pride?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. And we were working on all of that, weren’t we? I knew you had

  your reservations, your anxieties. Inhibitions, even. I can’t say I understood them, but I always thought we’d get there, that things would change. We were taking it slowly, taking our time . .

  .’

  ‘But time ran out, didn’t it? You couldn’t wait any longer. And along came Sarah.’

  He closed his eyes and tightened his hold on my fingers. ‘I know. Bloody stupid of me.

  And I’m sorry. I wish I could go back, start again, but I suppose it’s too late now, isn’t it?

  There’s Sarah to think about, and Janey. And now you’ve got Simon. Lucky sod’s got the one

  thing I never had.’ There was a bitterness in his voice I had never heard there before. He opened his eyes again and stared into mine. ‘Good, is he? In bed?’