We Are Family

by Nicola Gill

  Laura’s mum’s face scrunched. ‘Family therapy?’

  ‘Yes,’ Helen said. ‘Laura and I have been doing lots of good work but I just wondered if a few sessions with you here as well might prove beneficial. And, if you felt it was appropriate, maybe even your other daughter too?’

  ‘Jess and I are doing fine, thank you.’ Laura’s mother’s hand was already on the door handle.

  ‘It was just a thought,’ Helen said.

  The next day, Laura’s mum told her that she wouldn’t be seeing Helen again and that she was better now. Laura wanted to protest, to say she really wanted to keep going and, at the very least, she wanted to be able to go back to say goodbye. But there was something about her mother’s tone that made it clear the decision was final.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Laura didn’t know whether to be irritated or relieved to see Jess at the door a full hour before Billy’s party was due to start, so she settled for a little of both.

  She was glad to have another pair of hands. Even though she’d got up at 6.30 that morning, with tidying the flat, coping with Billy’s stratospheric levels of excitement and fielding calls from a mother talking about her daughter’s gluten intolerance, she wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be in terms of preparation. She still hadn’t made the sandwiches or filled the party bags and the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner was looking decidedly wonky. Oh, and she was still in her pyjamas.

  ‘Come in,’ she said to Jess, Hannah and Lola. All three of them looked utterly immaculate and were colour-coordinated in a way Laura didn’t imagine could be accidental. No doubt StyleMaven would be blogging about the day later. My nephew’s fifth birthday party! #PerfectAuntie

  ‘I thought you could probably use a hand,’ Jess said.

  Laura heard her mother’s voice suddenly: Why can’t you be more organized, Laura? It wouldn’t hurt to think ahead. It’s a child’s birthday party, for goodness’ sake. How hard can it be? But Laura knew she was being over sensitive. Jess was just trying to be nice. Also, she could do with a hand. Jon had done nothing this morning. He hadn’t got out of bed until about half an hour ago and he kept saying he’d do it later when she asked him to empty the (overflowing) bin. She couldn’t say anything to him though. She knew he thought she was making way too much fuss about this party.

  Jess was wearing the necklace again and Laura felt a stab of irritation. It wasn’t so much that she wanted it but the fact that it would have been nice to have been asked.

  Billy burst into the room. ‘It’s my paaaaaaaarty!’

  Jess laughed and Lola and Hannah surveyed him condescendingly before agreeing, with a slightly pained air, to go and meet his guinea pig.

  ‘Guinea pig?’ Jess said to Laura.

  Laura just nodded. She didn’t want to get into all that now. Didn’t want to give Jess any more reason to hate Jon. Laura heard her mother again: Jess and I both think you’re an idiot when it comes to that man.

  ‘Right,’ Jess said, ‘give me a job.’

  ‘Umm, you could make the sandwiches? Or fill the party bags?’

  ‘The party bags?’ Jess said.

  Laura could read the subtext: You haven’t filled the party bags yet? I do mine days in advance. She bristled. It wasn’t her fault that the rainbow slime hadn’t arrived until yesterday evening. Well, it was her fault because she was the one who had accidentally ordered flowers in the shape of a mobile phone instead of the slime in the first place, and then only remembered to order the actual slime when she was on her way to the hospice yesterday morning (thank God for same day delivery). But she’d had a lot to do. One of the other mums from school had said she thought Laura was very brave having a birthday party three days after her mother’s funeral. Laura had instantly felt bad. Was it terribly bad form? Was she a failure at grief? A poor excuse for an orphan?

  ‘I’ll get the girls to fill the party bags while I make the sandwiches,’ Jess said. ‘Do you want to get yourself ready?’

  Laura looked down at her tea-stained pyjamas. Her mother had always nagged her about her lack of attention to her appearance. I do wish you’d make a bit of an effort. It takes five minutes to put on some make-up in the morning. A good haircut can work wonders for a round face.

  Jess was rooting around in the fridge. ‘What’s going in the sandwiches?’

  ‘Half cheese and half ham.’

  ‘Ham?’ Jess said, almost as if Laura had said ‘poo’.

  ‘Yes, what’s wrong with ham?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Jess said. ‘Just, you know, processed meat.’

  As Laura stood in the shower, she replayed the words in her head: Just, you know, processed meat. Jess was so bloody annoying.

  Laura squeezed out the shower gel, suddenly realizing that her heart was pounding, and guiltily registering that that she hadn’t got around to making herself a doctor’s appointment since that incident at the wake. She was pretty sure the doctor would tell her it was nothing to worry about and that she’d just had a funny five minutes and wasn’t actually dying. She ought to check though – her parents were living (or rather not living) proof that not everyone made their four score years and ten.

  When Laura went back into the kitchen, Hannah and Lola had a party-bag production line going, Jess had made the sandwiches and was cutting up carrot batons and the bin had magically been emptied (not, Laura imagined, by Jon, who was sitting on the sofa sipping a coffee and looking at his phone). Even Billy was calm, colouring in a huge ‘It’s my birthday!’ badge that she assumed Jess must have given him.

  Laura took a quick swig of Gaviscon and then went over to adjust the wonky ‘Happy Birthday’ banner, but it was a two-person job, really. She glanced hopefully at Jon but he was engrossed in whatever he was reading on his phone.

  ‘Need a hand?’ Jess said, putting down the carrot she was cutting and taking the other side of the banner.

  Laura heard her mother’s voice again: Your sister is always there when you need her. Subtitle (though not subtle-title): Unlike you.

  ‘We really need to pin down a date to clear Mum’s flat,’ Jess said.

  Laura had to stifle the urge to scream. Jess had mentioned this at least once a day since their mother had died. ‘Can you just let me get one stressful event out of the way at a time?’ Her words came out sounding so curt that Jon even glanced up from his phone. ‘We’ll do it soon,’ Laura said, trying to be conciliatory. Jess was helping her right now, after all. ‘I wonder what secrets we’ll discover?’ she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

  Jess stared at her.

  ‘I’m only joking,’ Laura said. ‘I don’t think we’re going to discover that Mum had a secret penchant for S&M … or needlepoint. Well, she certainly wasn’t a needlepoint-type of woman. Everyone has some secrets though, don’t they? Well, except you. No secrets in the world of Mrs “I’m very honest in my blog”.’

  Jess was standing completely still with a strange look on her face.

  ‘Err, I’m just joking around with you,’ Laura said.

  ‘Haha,’ Jess said mirthlessly, turning her back on Laura and returning to the carrots.

  Laura looked at her sister’s rigid shoulders. What had rattled her cage?

  Laura’s mobile rang. A mother who wanted to know if it was okay to pick up her daughter about twenty minutes late? It was just she was planning to go into town. No, Laura felt like screaming. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Someone cancelling?’ Jess said when Laura hung up.

  Laura shook her head. ‘Just a mum who might be a few minutes late for pick-up.’ No point telling Jess the woman was talking ‘twenty minutes or so’. Her sister was bound to take a very dim view of that.

  ‘How many kids are coming?’ Jess said.

  ‘Seventeen or so.’

  ‘People are terrible at RSVP-ing, aren’t they?’

  Was that a dig? You should have chased them? No, she was being over sensitive. ‘You’ve got yourself in such a state about this party,’ Jon had said to h
er last night when she burst into tears because she’d ruined a batch of rice-krispies cakes. ‘I’m not in a state,’ she’d responded hotly. Someone had to care about it though, didn’t they?

  Her mind flashed back to one of her birthday parties when she was little. She must have been about six or seven; her dad doing magic tricks. Kids wouldn’t accept that now. Professional entertainers were de rigueur. ‘How much are you paying for Calvin the Clown?’ Jon had said. ‘Crazy!’

  ‘Shall Hannah and I get Billy ready?’ Lola said to her mum.

  Laura had to stifle a giggle. True, it would be a good idea to get the party child out of his rather grubby Spider-Man pyjamas, but she wasn’t sure he needed an entourage. She half-expected Lola to produce a professional hair and make-up kit.

  ‘What time does it start?’ Jon asked.

  ‘Eleven o’clock,’ Laura said tightly. She’d told him this several times.

  He glanced at his watch and said that was less than twenty minutes away. The realization didn’t make him turn his attentions away from the football blog he was reading though.

  The bell rang and Laura opened the door to Calvin the Clown, who managed to look lined and tired under his thick layer of white face paint. ‘I’m Calvin,’ he said, proffering a hand.

  Yeah, Laura thought. The multi-coloured costume, face paint and big red nose told me you weren’t the DPD delivery guy. She ushered him in and introduced him to everyone, trying not to notice that none of the kids in the room looked especially charmed.

  Calvin started to set up, explaining that he’d start with some limbo to break the ice and then there would be party games and magic before finishing up with balloon animals. How many kids were we expecting?

  ‘Seventeen or so,’ Laura said, feeling a huge stab of hostess anxiety. What if none of them turned up?

  ‘What can I do?’ Jon said.

  Finally!

  ‘I think we’re all good,’ Jess said.

  Laura bristled. She was going to say exactly the same thing herself but she would still have liked to have been the one who said it.

  Angus Murray was the first to arrive. Of course he was. You don’t get invited to many parties when you routinely thump your classmates. His mother asked if Laura wanted mums to stay or drop off but then disappeared before waiting for an answer.

  More kids started to arrive and Laura let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

  Calvin started his ‘wacky’ party games. If there was a more soul-destroying word in the English language than wacky, Laura didn’t know of it.

  A dad arrived with a child with a ‘severe nut allergy’. He handed Laura an epi-pen.

  ‘You’re not staying?’

  ‘No, no,’ the man said, ‘wouldn’t want to get in your hair.’

  Laura felt like saying she’d much rather he ‘got in her hair’ than left her to deal with anaphylactic shock.

  ‘Zack will be fine,’ the dad said, reading her horrified expression. ‘And, if the worst comes to the worst, the epi-pen is easy to use. Just stab it in his thigh.’

  And then he was gone.

  ‘Don’t worry, I know how to use an epi-pen,’ said the mother of the gluten-intolerant child.

  ‘Me too,’ Jess added.

  How did Jess know how to use an epi-pen?

  Calvin was managing to hold the attention of most of the crowd, although there was one little boy who was so scared of him, he had to be taken out of the room by Hannah and Lola.

  ‘It seems a shame for them to miss the show,’ Laura said to Jess.

  Jess shrugged, said they wouldn’t mind. They really were ridiculously well-behaved. Laura wanted to stuff them both full of sugar just to see if she could make at least one of them put a foot wrong.

  ‘What can I do?’ Jon asked again.

  ‘If you could be responsible for the sausage rolls?’ Laura suggested.

  Jon looked at her quizzically.

  ‘They need heating up.’

  ‘They’re fine cold, aren’t they?’

  ‘They’re nicer hot,’ Laura snapped, bustling past him.

  ‘All right, all right,’ Jon said, wrestling the baking sheet out of her hands. ‘Keep your knickers on.’

  A little girl appeared at Laura’s side in floods of tears. ‘Angus hit me!’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Laura said, stooping down to comfort her. ‘What do I do about Angus?’ she hissed to Jess.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ Jess said.

  The doorbell rang and Laura went to open it, trailing the still sniffling little girl in her wake. It was Amy with Josh on her hip. Josh was also crying.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Amy said. ‘Are there lots of Dulwich mums?’ Laura and Amy liked to laugh at ‘proper’ Dulwich mums. Amy swore blind she’d once met a woman with playdate business cards.

  ‘I had one woman on the phone about her daughter’s gluten intolerance at 7 a.m.’ Laura whispered.

  Amy grinned. ‘I think Joshy must be teething because he’s miserable today. I haven’t been able to get a thing done all morning. In fact, if you don’t mind, I might just leave him with you for half an hour while I nip to Sainsbury’s. Do you need anything?’

  ‘Umm … err.’

  ‘I do think it’s a bit cheeky leaving her little one with you when you’ve got a party going on,’ Jess said as they were setting out the party food.

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ Laura said. Even though it was a fair bit of trouble, especially as Josh cried every time she tried to put him down. Right now she was attempting to open a packet of Iced Gems one-handed. ‘Anyway, Amy’s a single mum – it can’t be easy.’ Jess made a sceptical face. ‘Listen, Amy keeps me sane at work. I’m more than happy to help her out from time to time. And she’d do the same for me.’

  ‘What’s that smell?’ Jess said. ‘I think there’s something burning.’

  Laura glanced towards the oven and looked in search of Jon, who was nowhere to be seen.

  Jess opened the oven and pulled out a tray of burnt sausage rolls. ‘Some of them are still okay.’

  Laura shook her head. ‘Chuck ’em.’

  Jess nodded. ‘Kids never eat at parties anyway.’

  Laura tried to smile even though she felt more like crying. There had already been enough blubbing this morning though, what with Adam crying because he was frightened of the clown, Molly crying because Angus had hit her, and Josh crying because his mouth was sore.

  Jon reappeared and Laura told him that the sausage rolls had burnt. He received this information totally impassively as if it wasn’t the one job he’d been given.

  A group of kids had got bored with watching Calvin and were running around hitting each other with balloons.

  ‘I’ll deal with it,’ Jess said.

  She really was useful. Laura hated to admit it, even to herself, but she’d be stuffed without her sister.

  The party meal was mayhem. One kid needed more squash, another an URGENT poo. A boy who had a thick glob of snot on his upper lip didn’t like Hula Hoops or crisps. Laura tried to be patient as she said maybe he could just have the sandwiches and the cakes, but she was ashamed to admit she just didn’t warm to the child – you may only be five, sweetheart, but somehow I just don’t like the cut of your jib.

  She glanced across at peanut allergy Zack and noted, gratefully, that he seemed to be keeping to food from his own Tupperware.

  Josh was getting heavy! Where was Amy? It had been one long half-hour.

  Calvin was making balloon animals. Angus Murray wasn’t happy with his. It didn’t look like a lion.

  You should be grateful, Laura thought uncharitably.

  Then the guinea pig got loose. ‘I was just showing him to Jake,’ Billy said, his lower lip wobbling.

  Jess managed to catch him (of course she did).

  ‘Thank goodness!’ Laura said. She glanced at her watch. Only twenty more minutes to go.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Laura was sponging chocolat
e off the carpet. At least, she hoped it was chocolate. She felt overwhelmingly exhausted and slightly tearful. ‘I’m just going to meet Jimmy for a quick one,’ Jon had said. ‘We’ll clear up when I get back, yeah?’ Laura nodded, but inside she’d felt sad. Was she being silly? Jon had said they’d clear up when he got back, hadn’t he? And wasn’t Laura supposed to be his ‘little hippy chick’; the very embodiment of laid-back? What had happened to that person?

  Jess was scraping half-eaten sandwiches and cakes into the food waste bin. Laura had tried not to notice the look on her face when Jon said he was going to the pub. Fuck her and her perfect life though. What did she know about anything?

  Laura rubbed at the carpet, the brown mark seeming to get bigger rather than disappear. The party had gone well. Billy had had a good time, Angus Murray had only hit one person and peanut-allergy Zack hadn’t gone into anaphylactic shock. Laura should be happy. Well, no, she shouldn’t, because she was bereaved – happy about the party though.

  Jess started washing up.

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Laura said.

  ‘It’s fine. I don’t want to leave you to do it on your own.’

  And there it was! ‘Don’t snipe at Jon.’

  ‘I wasn’t sniping at Jon.’

  Laura rubbed harder at the carpet. ‘Yes, you were.’

  Jess sighed. ‘I mean, I do think it would have been nice if he could have forsaken the pub for a day.’

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ Laura said.

  Billy ran into the room, clutching his red and yellow balloon monkey and announcing that he and his ‘coz-ins’ were hungry.

  ‘There are lots of carrot sticks left over,’ Jess said.

  Billy looked at her like she was insane, grabbed a plate of cakes and darted out of the room before she had a chance to protest.

  ‘I know what you think of Jon,’ Laura said.

  Jess sighed. ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Laura.’

  Laura stared at the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner. It still looked wonky. The air was thick with tension. How could her sister possibly begin to understand that when Laura had met Jon, she’d felt totally adrift and that he had saved her? That, yes, the initial attraction had been that they were both a couple of free-spirited hedonists, but it was so much more than that. Jon saw her. ‘You know nothing about my relationship with Jon,’ she said quietly.