The Girl in the Corner

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay, so give me a new job – or shall I carry another tray around?’ She eyed the mushroom vol-au-vents, which had started to look a little deflated. She knew how they felt.

  ‘It must be nice being you.’ Debbie-Jo turned and spoke to her sister with her arms folded across her bust and a tremble to her mouth. ‘I have always thought so.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Rae had caught the tone but not the exact words; her mind had been on other things, staring at the tray of food next to her mum’s burned oven glove and wondering how many cakes baked for those she loved she had pulled from the oven with that very mitt.

  ‘I said it must be nice being you, swanning in and swanning out when it suits you. Leaving me to do all the hard stuff, like getting up for Dad when he’s distressed in the middle of the night and sorting through Mum’s clothes, bagging them up and taking them to the charity shop. Then you get to come here with the whole of the Latimer clan, crowding the rooms, taking over, eating the spread – and that Dolly, always so bloody loud!’ Debbie-Jo placed her hands briefly over her ears.

  Rae felt her mouth go dry and her stomach bunch. She looked towards the hall for Howard, her default if she ever found herself in an uncomfortable situation, but he wasn’t there. She looked back at her sister, not wanting this conversation to happen, not today and not in this house, but she was trapped.

  She took a breath and spoke calmly. ‘There’s no need to talk to me like that, Debbie-Jo. Especially not today.’ She went to reach for the tray.

  ‘You are only part of this family when it suits you. Dropping in with your flash car parked outside like Lady Never-Shit.’

  ‘Where is this coming from? I live close by; I come here all the time! It’s not me who used to practically drive past the front door to go to a concert or catch a flight – how much would mum and dad have loved a visit on those days?’

  ‘I don’t know who you think you are and I don’t know why all those people are here!’ Debbie-Jo repeated.

  Rae faced her sister. ‘The Latimers are here because I am a Latimer and they are my family. Plus they loved Mum, always made a fuss of her, invited her to their homes and their celebrations; they have known her for decades – it’s absolutely right they’ve come. And Dolly is loud, that’s true, but she is my best friend, my family too, and she is kind and she loved Mum, very much.’

  ‘Mum didn’t like her. She told me that once.’

  Rae felt the punch of her sister’s words and didn’t know how to back down. What she wanted more than anything was for her mum to come into the kitchen and separate them and to make them hot chocolate and sit them down on the sofa and to tell them it was all going to be all right.

  ‘Well, she once told me she thought Lee was lazy and work-shy and she doubted he had a bad back at all – you really want to do this?’

  As if on cue, the sound of Dolly’s very loud laugh filled the air.

  While Debbie-Jo floundered for words Rae again adopted a conciliatory tone, wanting to pour water on this verbal fire. ‘I don’t believe our mum would say point-blank that she didn’t like someone, because she was kind and she liked everyone and that’s a nice trait to have. We should try to be like her. And I have offered to take Dad to my house but he wants to stay here; and I’ve figured that if you are here then it’s best that I’m not. You don’t exactly make me feel welcome and that makes me sad. I always feel like I have done something wrong. You have always made me feel that way. And why you felt the need to go through Mum’s clothes so soon, before we had even . . .’ She paused. ‘I just don’t know.’

  ‘That’s right, you don’t know! You haven’t got a bloody clue! You think because you married a bit of money you know life, but you don’t.’

  ‘Debbie-Jo, I don’t know where this is coming from, but I am going to assume it’s because you are hurting and I understand that, so I am going to leave this room and avoid you for the rest of the day – and then, when you are ready, call me and we can talk properly.’

  ‘Would it have killed you to give me the dates for the caravan?’

  Rae’s mouth dropped open. ‘Are you serious right now? Is this what this is all about? The caravan?’ she asked with disbelief.

  ‘No, but that just about sums you up. We got you that as a gift and it meant we didn’t get a holiday, as they only give us one free week, but I didn’t want to turn up to one of your big flash dos at your very own restaurant and give you a bottle of cheap wine that would get lost alongside the bloody champagne! I wanted to do something nice, extravagant; I thought you’d like it and I thought it might make Mum and Dad happy that we were going to so much trouble. But you didn’t mention it, not really.’

  ‘I did! I said thank you! I thought it was great!’

  ‘So great you buggered off to the Caribbean, no doubt sitting on a beach laughing at the thought of a week in a caravan in Devon.’

  ‘Not at all – and Mum only reminded me about the dates the night before . . .’ The sob caught in her throat. ‘The night before she died; and here we are!’ She looked at her sister hiding away in the kitchen, making tea and with this torrent of feelings that must have been swirling inside her for God knows how long. Rae realised that Debbie-Jo reminded her a bit of herself, battling with the feeling of not being quite good enough.

  ‘Well, you can forget about it. Lee’s mum and dad thought you were taking the piss and said we can’t have it any week now; they’ve freed up all the dates on the booking calendar online.’

  Rae stared at her sister. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say to you, Debbie-Jo, I really don’t.’

  ‘I want you to not treat me like a second-class citizen! Everything I have ever tried to do, you have had to trump.’

  ‘Like what?’ Rae was mystified.

  ‘Like I go to the high seas and I am a dancer on a five-star cruise line but when I come home, all Mum and Dad can talk about is your bloody wedding and the bloody wedding cake! I get pregnant and so do you! I buy a flat in Northampton; you buy a fucking mansion in London!’

  Rae found herself reeling. It took a while for her response to form. ‘I have never intentionally done anything to make you feel that way. You are my sister! Not that you were ever really that kind to me. Do you know you made me feel like shit my whole childhood? You were always angry, crying, sulking – or dancing and performing. Never any happy medium. Everything had to revolve around Debbie-Jo – her classes, her hobbies, her moods and her glittering future career! You told me I was the girl in the corner! And I believed you!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Debbie-Jo fired.

  Rae ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I knew I could never live up to you with your many, many talents, and so when Howard wanted to marry me I grabbed that chance! Because someone as wonderful as him wanted to marry a plain Jane like me. I couldn’t believe it! You made me feel like shit and you are still making me feel like shit. Right now, today, having a go at me on the day of Mum’s funeral. It’s disgraceful!’

  There was a moment of realignment while her words permeated. Debbie-Jo raised her shaking hand to her mouth and slowly began crying into her palm. ‘I . . . I’m sorry,’ she managed, through a mouth contorted with sadness.

  ‘Yes, well, I am sorry too! The way you treated me shaped the person I became. I believed I was the girl destined to stay in the corner and that was it! But not any more, Debbie-Jo. I am more than that. I always was. I just didn’t know it.’

  Debbie-Jo stared at her with a pained look that suggested she had not fully considered things from her sister’s perspective. Her tears fell harder. ‘I am sorry, Rae.’ She looked at the floor, almost in shame.

  Quite overwhelmed not only by her sister’s apology but also by her own ballsy performance, Rae matched her tear for tear. ‘I’m sorry too.’ She took a step forward and took her big sister into her arms. And that was how they stood, the two of them, locked in an embrace in front of the kitchen sink where their mum had toiled her who
le life.

  ‘I never got to say my goodbye to her, Rae. By the time I got to the hospital she had been packed off to the morgue. I miss her. I miss her so much it hurts and I never got to say goodbye and I never got to tell her how much I loved her,’ whimpered Debbie-Jo.

  ‘She knew, Debbie-Jo! Never, ever doubt that she knew how much you loved her. You made her so proud. She used to keep the photographs of you in your costumes on that little shelf over the toaster, remember?’

  Rae tried to stifle her sob. Her sister did the same.

  Rae whispered softly into Debbie-Jo’s ear. ‘She knew how much we loved her and we know how much she loved us and that really is something. A gift.’

  A fire crackled in the grate of the sitting room of Lawns Crescent. Howard poured generous slugs of brandy into the tumblers and handed them around the room. George and Ruby were as ever sitting hip to hip on the sofa, with Hannah at the other end; Rae and Howard took the other sofa. Rae eased off her pumps and curled her aching feet under her legs.

  ‘To Maureen!’ Howard raised his glass and took a sip.

  They all did the same and sipped the warm, honey-coloured liquid.

  Howard loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. ‘I think that, as terrible days go, today was the best terrible day. It went well, a proper send-off; it was good to hear so many people speaking so fondly about your mum and it was great company for your dad.’

  ‘It was. I am absolutely exhausted.’ Rae threw her head back on the cushions.

  ‘I think you’ve probably been running on adrenaline for a week or so and now you will crash and we will pick you up if you fall,’ Howard reassured her.

  ‘Thank you all. I love you all so much,’ she cried, swiping at her tears with her fingertips, unsure of exactly why she was crying now, as a multitude of emotions swirled inside her. ‘I was so proud of you guys today.’

  ‘We were proud of you, Mum.’ Hannah smiled at her. ‘And for the record, Debbie-Jo is a bit of a nutcase!’

  George and Ruby snickered into their glasses: evidently their altercation had been heard.

  Rae shook her head. ‘No, she’s not, Hannah. She’s grieving and sad and a bit confused and angry, but not a nutcase. We all have our issues, right?’

  ‘Suppose so,’ Hannah offered reluctantly. ‘Niamh sends you all her love.’

  They all smiled, sharing the joy of this new relationship.

  Rae yawned loudly. ‘I think I need to go to bed. I can hardly stay awake.’ She swung her legs from the sofa and stood.

  ‘I’ll come up now too. Night, kids.’ Howard downed his brandy and the two trod the stairs slowly. She felt his fingers reach for her hand, stroking her palm in a way that was familiar, if somewhat forgotten. She felt electricity flow through them. This was the first time he had touched her with something that felt a lot like promise and her heart raced.

  Still holding her hand in his, Howard closed the bedroom door behind him and without switching on the light pulled her sharply to him, kissing her on the lips and working his way with his mouth along her jaw to her neck. He paused and whispered in her ear, ‘Hannah is right, though: Debbie-Jo is a bit of a nutcase!’

  Rae laughed and pressed her body up against him, kissing him hungrily with energy and a longing that had lain dormant for a long time. There was a need for the union, not only for the sweet escape it offered but also to erase the memory of his infidelity and to pave the way forward, a recalibration of this new and changed relationship in which she found herself slipping back into the role of Howard Latimer’s wife. Gripping each other, the two waltzed clumsily to the bed and fell on to it. As he pulled at her sombre black frock, the feel of his hand on her skin was new and glorious, sending shards of desire from the point of contact to her very core. She placed her face against his chest and inhaled the scent, revelling in the feel of him, the weight of him. Theirs was an urgent need that was so much more than sex; it was about reconnecting, renewal and a promise for the future.

  It was, at a physical level, forgiveness.

  ‘I love you, Rae. I love you completely.’

  ‘I love you too. I do. I love you.’ She wept, crying for so many reasons that all fought for space in her mind. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember how sex had felt before, when he was hers and hers alone and no dark thoughts threatened to suck the joy from the moment.

  FIFTEEN

  With the whiff of summer in the air, Rae waved Howard off to work, rather liking the lingering kiss he planted on her cheek before jumping into his car. Like waking one day and looking out of the window and realising that this was where you belonged, she realised that she had returned to the beginnings of happy and it was a comforting place to live. Safe.

  She placed the recycling on the pavement, sorted into separate boxes for cardboard, plastic and glass, and wiped her hands on her apron before running to the kitchen, where the phone was ringing on the wall. The kitchen might have been only a few months old, but the sharp edges had already softened and the new paint and shiny appliances had settled, becoming part of the home. It felt lovely to have the beating heart of the building back in use, and she was happy with her choice, no matter that it wasn’t radical or exciting and there was no fancy-pants built-in coffee machine. She enjoyed the fact that there was no need for her to click her fingers and ask the waiter to bring new tiles.

  ‘Hi, Rae, it’s John here from Barnet.’

  ‘Hello, John from Barnet!’ She smiled at how the young manager of the Latimer Kitchen gave his name and location. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Good, great – actually, no, not good and great at all, and a little bit stuck!’

  ‘Ah, now we get to it.’ She looked along the countertop until she had located her handbag and car keys.

  ‘We are running really low on foil trays with lids, both large and small, and I can’t get up to the wholesalers and don’t have any spare staff with access to a car. They can only deliver tomorrow and I need them, like, now! We are batch cooking today for the freezer.’

  ‘No worries; I’m on it, John. I’ll scoot by, pick some up and have them with you as soon as traffic allows.’

  ‘Rae, thank you. You are a godsend!’

  ‘So I’ve been told.’ She hung up and grabbed her car keys. Out of the window went her plan for planting the tubs in the back yard.

  She sat in the traffic with the radio on, tapping her steering wheel in time to Black’s ‘Wonderful Life’, thinking of how she and Dolly used to have the song on repeat on a Walkman. She knew the words by heart. She recalled walking along the pavement to her house and pictured her mum opening the door to greet them.

  Oh dear . . . Has someone been smoking?

  Someone probably has, yes . . .

  Rae felt the familiar wave of sadness. ‘I miss you, Mum, so much,’ she whispered. This was as true now as it had been on the day she died, and she wondered if the longing for contact with her would ever diminish. Her dad had, over the last couple of weeks, perked up a little. He could now talk about his wife without the onset of tears and this was progress in itself. He had also started to get out and about a bit more. He had asked that Rae stop their grocery delivery, preferring to walk each day to the shops for the bits and pieces he needed, and she and Debbie-Jo had agreed that it was probably for the best, killing two birds with one stone. It gave him much-needed social interaction as well as a bit of exercise.

  Things between her and Debbie-Jo were better: much better. The frost that had set in had all but thawed and Rae was almost glad of their crappy, selfish row on the day of her mum’s funeral. It meant that her big sister had got to say all the things that had sat on her chest, she suspected, for a number of years. She had phoned Debbie-Jo when she eventually went back to Northampton.

  ‘You know, my life is not and never has been perfect. I often feel a bit lost and a bit surplus to requirements. I kind of fill my day with chores and work for the restaurant where I can get it, because I think without it I might go a
bit crazy. My family is all I have; I live for the kids, for Howard.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have gone on about the caravan! I don’t know why it felt so important. But it did.’ Her sister spoke openly.

  ‘I think losing Mum messed with our heads – and of course it was always going to; she was our mum.’

  ‘I think you are right. And you know I always wanted to be like you, Rae-Valentine, always.’

  ‘And I always wanted to be like you, Barbara Gordon.’

  Debbie-Jo’s laugh was loud and instant. ‘Oh my God! Barbara Gordon! I had forgotten about that; I wanted to change my name.’

  ‘Yes, and you were furious when Mum and Dad wouldn’t let you!’

  The two giggled into the phone.

  Rae sniffed. ‘And you know what this means, don’t you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It means that our parents did such a good job of raising two phenomenal girls that we were the envy of each other – we are bloody brilliant!’

  ‘We are!’ Debbie-Jo chuckled. ‘We are bloody brilliant!’

  ‘I caught them having sex once,’ Rae revealed.

  ‘Oh my God, you did not! That’s gross!’

  ‘I did! Not that I realised it at the time.’

  ‘Eeuuuw, that’s horrific! How old were you?’

  ‘About five.’ Rae laughed, settling back on the sofa. ‘I had had a bad dream . . .’

  Rae scoured the shelves of the wholesaler and spent far too long running her fingers over the myriad herbs and spices, wondering how she might incorporate them into rubs, marinades and seasonings. It was a knack: she could look at and smell a herb or spice, and picture the finished dish it would enhance. Not that she had time for this today . . . She went off in search of the foil dishes, grabbed them in bulk and loaded them into her trolley, then waited for the rather slow cashier to deal with the man in front of her and his hundred-plus bottles of ketchup.

  Her mobile rang.

  ‘Guess what? I am in Latimers Barnet and John has just told me you are on your way!’