No Sister of Mine (ARC)

by Vivien Brown

  period and there was blood on the sheets. He backed away from it, kept his distance, made sure

  he didn’t have to deal with any of the mucky unpleasant stuff, waited until whatever it was had passed before easing himself back in as if he’d never been gone.

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  Sometimes I felt about a hundred years old, as if the weight of the world and all its sorrows was on my shoulders. Eve was miles away in Wales, Dad was crumbling and Josh was

  distant. And that just left me.

  I went down to the park once, around the same time of day I had bumped into Colin

  Grant that time. I suppose I was half hoping to see him again, run into him as if by accident,

  but he wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. And, if he had been, what then? Pick his medical

  brain about Mum’s illness? Stop for a coffee? Arrange to meet again? No, I couldn’t, and

  shouldn’t, go down that route, much as I needed someone to talk to, to take my mind off all the bad stuff, to make me laugh again. But Colin wasn’t the answer. I had to concentrate on the

  family now, and on myself for a change.

  With Janey settled at school and Josh moaning about me doing nothing all day, I had

  only recently found myself a job. Only part-time in a solicitor’s office, working four mornings a week and one whole day every Friday when the place was at its busiest, with so many people

  choosing that day to complete their house moves. I did filing, photocopying, answering the

  phone, but I was so grateful to have even been considered for the job, let alone offered it, that I loved every minute of it. It had given me a reason to buy some smart new clothes to replace

  my sad old mumsy uniform of jogging trousers and baggy T-shirts, so often over the years

  stained with baby sick, the whites faded to dingy grey.

  Josh had never wanted me to dress up. He said it would just attract other men, that I

  should only look nice for him. And there had never been any need to because we rarely went

  anywhere that called for posh outfits. But the new job, and the new clothes, had given me a

  sense of pride and self-worth, something that had been sadly lacking in my life while I was just a stay-at-home mum. It didn’t matter what Josh thought. I was doing this for me. Only, now,

  just as I was starting to find myself, I was being swallowed up in domestic chores and family

  stresses all over again. Not that I blamed anyone. It wasn’t as if Mum had got ill on purpose,

  and I felt angry with myself for the little shivers of resentment that ran through me. It wasn’t fair. But then, life wasn’t fair either, was it?

  ‘You can leave that, Love. I can do it later.’ Dad had come into the room behind me as

  I ran the hoover round the carpet and I jumped as I felt his hand fall unexpectedly on my

  shoulder.

  ‘It’s okay. I’ve started now, so I might as well finish.’

  ‘You sound like that Magnus Magnusson!’

  ‘Who?’ I leaned down and flicked the switch to off.

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  ‘You know. Mastermind. It’s what he used to say.’

  ‘Right.’ I had no idea what he was talking about. ‘I’ll just put this away and then I’ll be

  off to pick up Janey from school. Tell Mum I’ll come back tomorrow some time to put the

  washing on and get that ironing pile sorted.’

  ‘Sarah, you do too much. I’m not totally inept, you know. I’m sure I can manage a few

  basic chores.’

  ‘And there’s a casserole in the oven. Should be ready in an hour or so. I’ve peeled you

  a few potatoes and carrots. They’re in water, in saucepans, so you just have to—’

  ‘Slow down, Love. It’s not that I’m not grateful. I am. And I know your mum is too,

  but we will get by. We won’t starve, or die of dust poisoning if the cleaning falls a bit behind.

  Go and enjoy your own life, your own family.’

  ‘You are my family.’

  ‘Of course we are. But you know what I mean. Go home and put your feet up. Watch a

  bit of telly. Open a bottle of wine. Have a drink for me, as I’m not allowed one anymore! Or

  go out for a meal. Take that husband of yours that we see so little of. I’m more than happy to

  have Janey for a couple of hours. Here, take this.’ He reached into his pocket, opened his wallet and handed me a couple of twenty-pound notes. ‘Treat yourself.’

  I tried to say no, but he was having none of it. Sometimes it’s just easier to give in. And

  he was right. I was doing too much, trying to keep two households afloat. I did need some time

  out. And Dad wasn’t the only one who saw so little of Josh. I had hardly seen him for days

  myself. We needed to spend more time together, to try to get some of the normality – maybe

  even the fun – back, to go out for an evening that didn’t involve me being up to my eyes in

  pots and pans and Janey’s homework, Josh dozing on the sofa, and no conversation whatsoever.

  ‘Thanks, Dad. Give Mum a kiss goodbye from me, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course. And don’t you dare give my washing another thought. If a man can’t rinse

  out his own underpants, well, what’s the world coming to, eh?’

  ***

  ‘I’m sorry, Sarah.’ Josh’s hand reached out across the pub table and rested on mine.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘This business with your mum. I can see how much it’s hurting you. Coming out like

  this for a quick drink and a scampi and chips is all well and good, and probably one of your

  dad’s better ideas, but I just wish there was more I could do.’

  ‘Like?’

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  ‘Oh, God, I don’t know. I’m not good in these situations, you know that. Hardly one for holding the sick bowl or knowing the right things to say, am I? And it’s not me your mum

  needs, is it? It’s your dad, and you two girls. I know I can’t do much for her, but I should be doing more for you. Shall I take some time off work? Spend more time with Janey? You look

  worn out.’

  ‘That’s because I am worn out.’ He was happy to spend more time with our daughter, I

  noticed, but there was no talk of spending more time with me. I couldn’t help but wonder how

  an offer like that was actually going to help lighten my load at all. Give me more time to go

  round with the hoover, I supposed. Still, I did my best to explain. ‘If Eve was nearer, we might be able to share things somehow, but I just feel it’s all falling on me. I know Dad says I needn’t do so much, but how can I not? How can I leave him to struggle on his own? He’s got enough

  to worry about. But I feel so stressed out, so bloody tired, and then when I get into bed I can’t sleep for all the thoughts rushing round my head. Not much you can do about that, is there?

  Unless you can get hold of some knock-out tablets or something.’

  ‘Tablets?’ He looked shocked. ‘Are things that bad?’

  ‘Oh, take no notice. It’s the tiredness talking. Things will get better, but yeah, if you

  could be at home a bit more, maybe help out a bit more, so I don’t feel like I’m dealing with

  everything on my own . . .’

  ‘I’ll talk to the boss. Ask for some compassionate leave, or just use up some of the

  standard holiday leave I’m due. Maybe we could go away for a few days? Yes, I know you

  want to be here for your parents, but you do need some time off. For good behaviour!’ He

  smiled, that old sexy look in his eyes that still had the power to persuade me into anything. His fingers tightened over mine, his thumb drawing little invisible circles on my wrist. ‘So we can get up to a bit of bad behaviour! We never did take that skiing trip we talked about, did we? />
  Do you remember?’

  ‘Skiing? Now?’ Did he have any idea of what I really needed? A husband by my side,

  supporting me, not some ridiculous escape route where we got to play silly buggers in the snow.

  A holiday was obviously what Josh wanted. I wasn’t sure it had a lot to do with helping me.

  ‘Well, no, of course not. Stupid idea! I just meant that we always said we’d do more,

  you know, together, as a family, and we haven’t really done it, have we? Not often enough

  anyway. But no long flights, no dangerous sports, no snow, I promise. Something closer to

  home, so we can get back if—’

  ‘If what? She takes a turn for the worse?’

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  ‘That’s not going to happen, Sarah. But, just in case, you know, we’re needed.

  Somewhere by the sea maybe? South coast? Buckets and spades. Donkey rides. Ice creams.

  Janey will love that.’

  ‘Do they still do donkey rides?’

  ‘No idea. Who knows? Let’s find out.’

  ‘But, what about school?’

  ‘We’ll tell them she’s sick. They’re hardly going to come round and check, are they?

  So long as she can tell a good lie when she goes back in.’

  ‘I don’t want to encourage Janey to tell lies, Josh.’

  ‘No, of course not, but circumstances sometimes make it necessary, don’t you think?’

  He picked up his glass and drained what was left of his beer. ‘Everyone does it.’

  ***

  We went to Bournemouth. A family room in a small hotel a short walk from the front. For

  October, the weather wasn’t too bad. A bit windy, and not a lot of sun to soak up when we did

  venture down to the beach, but Janey loved the whole experience, insisting that, at seven, she

  was too old for building sandcastles but doing it anyway, her little yellow bucket gradually

  filling up with a collection of pebbles and shells that she spent ages finding and then arranging around the walls and turrets of her castle.

  Worn out from all the excitement and exercise on that first afternoon, she was asleep

  within half an hour of dinner, curled up in a tight little ball in her single bed under the window, the fluffy teddy she had carefully chosen to bring with her clasped snugly in her arms. I called Dad from the bathroom, making sure I didn’t disturb her, and was relieved to be told that

  everything at home was fine. No change. Nothing to worry about.

  ‘Well, Mrs Cavendish,’ Josh said, quietly pulling the curtains shut above Janey’s head

  as I came back into the room. ‘What shall we do now? We can hardly go out anywhere, or even

  just back down to the bar and leave her on her own, can we?’

  ‘Watch TV, I suppose, if we keep the volume down.’

  ‘Is that the best you can come up with? Away from home, after a nice meal where we

  haven’t had to do our own cooking or washing up, an evening to ourselves in a posh room with

  a king-size bed, all buoyed up with sea air and wine and . . . oh, come here, for God’s sake, and take your clothes off.’

  It wasn’t that I was unwilling. Far from it! It had just been so long since Josh had shown

  any real interest in me that I felt almost shy as I pulled my T-shirt up and over my head. He

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  stood behind me and undid my bra, his fingers finding their way round to cup my breasts as he nuzzled into the back of my neck. And then we were on the bed, my bottom lifting as he

  wriggled my jeans and knickers down, his body crushing me as he tugged his own clothes off

  and threw them on the floor.

  I glanced across at Janey, still fast asleep. We had never made love in the same room

  as her before, never taken that risk of her waking up, seeing us, hearing us, not even when she was a tiny baby. ‘Sssh. We mustn’t wake her,’ I whispered, anxiously trying to suppress the

  groan that threatened to come from my own throat as Josh’s mouth moved ever lower down

  my body and his tongue flicked against all the right places.

  ‘It’s not me making the noise . . .’

  I could feel him breathe, hard and fast, his mouth and fingers moving expertly, his

  erection pressing itself against my bent-up knees as he crouched over me. It only took me

  seconds. The shudders ran through me, my eyes closed, my hands, which had been pinned

  beneath him, suddenly free to move but too tingly to do it, as he slipped back upwards, his face sticky and wet as it met mine. He pushed himself inside me then, not kissing, not speaking, just intent on his purpose, the sweat forming in a slimy layer between us. And then, in what felt

  like less than a minute, he was emptied, done. He lay for a moment, panting, then rolled away

  and sat up on the edge of the bed, his back towards me.

  ‘Phew. It’s been a while,’ he said, taking a big breath and letting his shoulders slump.

  I could hear Janey mumbling, stirring, saw a leg flop out from under her covers and her

  teddy drop to the floor.

  ‘Just managed that in time, by the look of it. I’m gonna grab a shower. Then maybe pop

  downstairs for a quick one.’

  ‘Isn’t that what we just had?’

  ‘Oh, ha ha. Not complaining, are you?’ He glanced over at Janey, snuffling gently in

  her sleep, and headed for the bathroom. ‘Marathon sessions and kids in the room don’t really

  go together, do they? Keep it short and sweet! But don’t you get up yet, Love. Lie there and

  have that rest you came down here for. You can relax in a long hot bath once I’ve finished in

  the shower. I bet they don’t run out of hot water here, no matter how much of it we use. And I

  won’t be gone too long. Just a couple of drinks in the bar. I am on holiday, after all.’

  And so am I, I thought. But somehow I’m the one left with the childcare again. And,

  for once, despite the orgasm I had so badly needed, and our daughter lying there all innocent

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  and unaware, I wondered just what it was that still held us together. Because there had been no love in what we had just done. None at all.

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  CHAPTER 19

  EVE

  Four years later

  I had to come back to London. What choice did I have? If Mum had only told me sooner how

  bad things were. Or if Dad had . . .

  We had all believed she’d beaten it. After a horrifying few months of chemo-induced

  baldness, her hair had grown back, greyer but surprisingly thicker than it had been before, and she had had it cut into a new shorter bob that took years off her. She had shooed away any idea of reconstructive surgery and had learned to live with special bras and the jelly-like inserts that fitted inside them, even daring to wear a swimsuit again when they headed off for their usual

  summer week in Bognor. As the years passed, she seemed to have accepted what life had

  chucked at her and found a new lease of life, dragging Dad off to ballroom-dancing classes and

  taking up yoga. But now, right out of the blue, the cancer was back, and this time it had spread, and quickly. Into her liver, and her bones.

  We all knew it was probably only a matter of time, and it was time I couldn’t afford to

  waste, cut off from my family, miles away in Wales, and unable to help them, or perhaps risk

  not being there to say the final goodbye. I handed in my notice, gave up the flat, packed up the bits of my life I needed to hang on to, which weren’t all that many, and went home.

  ‘Things won’t be so easy,’ Josh said on his last weekend visit to Wales before I left.

  ‘For us, I mean. Living so close to each other. We can’t afford to take risks.’

  ‘Wha
t are you saying, Josh? That once I’m back home we’re finished?’

  ‘I hope not, Eve. I just mean that we can’t be, you know, seen together, can we? Going

  out together won’t be easy. And staying in together, like this . . .’ He waved his hand around

  to indicate the bedroom we were lying in, naked, with piles of moving boxes stacked up in the

  corner. ‘Well, while you’re staying at your parents’ it will be damn near impossible.’

  ‘I do know that, Josh. But it’s not as if I see you often now, is it? What is it? Four or

  five times a year, if I’m lucky. Much as I wish things could have been different. But we could

  still meet up sometimes. A hotel somewhere, maybe? Out of town. And I’ll be nearer so,

  without all the travelling, there should actually be more opportunities. And where there’s a will, there’s a way, as they say. If you still want to, of course.’

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  ‘You know I do.’ If I didn’t know him better I would have said he was sulking. Like a kid whose favourite toy was being taken away.

  ‘But I do have to be there, for Mum and Dad, and sleeping back in my old room makes

  sense, to start with anyway. At least until I can find a job. And a flat of my own. And I won’t pick one round the corner from you, I promise.’

  For the first time I could remember, I actually felt glad when he drove away and I could

  get back to what mattered most. Taking those last few steps towards getting out of there and

  back to where, for now at least, I knew I belonged.

  ***

  I felt guilty leaving work before the end of term, but everyone said they understood. They gave

  me a wonderful send-off. The staff room was decked with balloons and banners, and there was

  a huge cake, iced to look like a blackboard, and piles of good luck cards. Every class I taught had made me a big communal card of their own, some with quotes from the poems we had

  been studying or little rhymes they had written themselves, and some of the children brought

  me gifts, everything from flowers to pens to far too many ‘Best Teacher’ mugs for me ever to