Faking It

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘The song,’ I snap back.

  Well, he’s obviously put me down as singing that song to have a dig at me. I can’t believe a grown man could be so pathetic.

  I slow down for a few seconds when I notice Jessica talking to Rich. He doesn’t look happy, but she looks delighted. That can’t be a good sign.

  ‘Hello,’ I say as I approach them. ‘Apparently someone put me down to sing “If I Only Had a Brain” as a joke. Rude.’

  ‘I think “If I Only Had a Heart” might have been more appropriate,’ Jessica says. She clicks her tongue.

  ‘Erm, what?’ I reply.

  I notice Abbey and Cleo standing behind her. I can’t help but feel as if they’re here for back-up.

  ‘I’m just filling your husband in on your antics,’ Jessica informs me.

  ‘Emma, I didn’t pick that song,’ Christian interrupts. He must have followed me. ‘I’m not having that.’

  ‘Sorry, I jumped to the wrong conclusion,’ I reply. ‘I’m suddenly getting the feeling it was Jessica…’

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t me,’ she insists with a laugh. ‘I’m not about the petty digs. I’m here to tell the truth.’

  ‘Incoming drunk,’ Marco announces as he joins us. He’s practically carrying John. ‘This yours?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Jessica says. ‘I’m in the middle of something, just prop him against a wall or something.’

  Marco shrugs and does as he’s told. Jessica clearly has no time for her husband right now. John leans back against the wall but he can’t hold himself up so he quickly slides down to the floor.

  ‘Right, I’m glad everyone is here,’ Jessica announces. ‘It’s about time the truth came out.’

  Oh, God. I don’t know what she thinks the truth is, but it’s not going to be the actual truth, is it? Because only me, Rich and Marco know the actual truth.

  ‘Rich, I hate to be the one to tell you this,’ Jessica starts, but she doesn’t sound as if she hates it; she looks and sounds as if she’s loving it. ‘I just caught your wife, red-handed, kissing this one down the corridor.’

  ‘It wasn’t what it seemed,’ Christian insists. ‘We were just talking.’

  ‘Not you,’ Jessica says. ‘Him. They were practically doing it against the wall. In a school.’

  She points Marco out to everyone.

  First of all, there are no kids here tonight. Second of all, the hypocrisy of the woman; she’s got a gin and tonic in her hand.

  ‘Wait, you just kissed him?’ Christian says. ‘Because you just kissed me and you gave it all that “oh, I love my husband” bullshit – but then you go and kiss him?’

  ‘Do you see the kind of woman you’re married to?’ Jessica tells Rich. ‘Do you see?’

  I don’t know what to say so I say nothing. Marco doesn’t know what to say so he says nothing.

  ‘Look, don’t worry, it’s fine, I know,’ Rich tells her quietly. Perhaps he should have said nothing too.

  ‘What? You know?’ she shrieks. ‘You know about her just running around the village, having multiple affairs? You poor, poor man. I feel so sorry for you. Emma Cooper, you’re nothing but a hussy.’

  ‘Enough,’ a voice shouts over us. ‘Enough.’

  We all turn to face the person calling time on our little Jerry Springer pop-up show. I expect it’s some school employee whose job it is to ask unruly parents to quit with the floorshow or leave. It isn’t though, and when I see who it is, all I can manage to do is blurt her name.

  ‘Emma!’

  44

  The first thing I notice is Emma’s face. It’s the most familiar face in the world to me – well, of course it is, it’s basically my face – but she’s the last person I expected to see here.

  The second thing I notice is the headscarf on her head.

  ‘Emma, what are you doing here?’ Rich asks her as he hurries over to her. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’

  ‘A few weeks in the clink and you’re dressing like a jailbird?’ I blurt, but it’s obvious something else is going on here.

  ‘OK, I have two questions: who or what the hell are you?’ Jessica asks me, then she turns to Emma. ‘And you were in prison?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, I obviously haven’t been in prison,’ Emma says with a roll of her eyes, and then she pulls her headscarf off.

  My breath catches in my throat. I quickly place my hand over my mouth. I don’t think anyone knows what to say.

  ‘Emma…’ I say softly, my voice almost failing me. ‘Emma…’

  ‘I’ve got cancer,’ she blurts. ‘Breast cancer.’

  My ears start ringing loudly, like my own personal alarm bells. I feel as if I’ve been punched in the face and the stomach. No, not again. This can’t be happening again.

  ‘Emma, you’re not supposed to be here,’ Rich says again.

  ‘What choice did I have, Rich?’ she replies. ‘This one is running amok. Have you seen the state of the village website? It’s completely different. I’ve lost track of the rumours doing the rounds about me. And all of my messages still come through to my laptop, so I’ve been following it all. Well, no more, I can’t sit by and watch her tank my life any more.’

  ‘Emma…’

  All I can say is her name.

  ‘I want you gone,’ she snaps at me. ‘I ask you for one little favour, I trust you with my world, and suddenly I’m the star attraction at… at this freak show.’

  ‘Let’s just get you home,’ Rich insists, ushering her away. ‘This isn’t good for you.’

  ‘Wait, which one of you did I kiss?’ a drunken John pipes up from the floor.

  And just when you think things can’t get any worse…

  ‘What?’ Jessica says angrily.

  Emma isn’t looking a great colour right now, obviously, but I see what little colour she has left drain from her cheeks as panic takes over.

  ‘I kissed one of them,’ John says. I don’t think he’d be saying this if he wasn’t drunk, and luckily, he’s being quite vague with the details.

  I think Rich must notice the look on Emma’s face – well, he knows his wife – so he lets go of her for a second and takes a step back while he waits for her to say something.

  ‘That was me,’ I quickly insist, just about finding my voice again. I cough to clear my throat. ‘I kissed him. I did it at work. I didn’t know who anyone was, I didn’t know he was married, and I didn’t give him much choice. It was a mistake on my part. I’m really sorry, I just… I didn’t know who anyone was. No one is to blame but me.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Rich tells Emma as he ushers her away from the group.

  ‘Who are you?’ Jessica asks me.

  ‘I’m Ella,’ I reply. ‘Emma’s twin.’

  I finally look over at Christian, who looks as if he’s just been hit by a bus. I think everyone is shaken up. But no one more than me.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ Marco insists, taking me by the hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  45

  I wake up in the exact same position I eventually fell asleep in: confused and wrapped up tightly in Marco’s arms.

  The first thing I did, after we left the school, was message Rich and ask him if he wanted me to find somewhere else to spend the night and he said yes. He told me that he was going to sneak Emma inside without the kids seeing. Thankfully Marco was willing to take me in and, given the circumstances, Ant and Lisa were fine with it.

  So, it might not have been the night we planned together, but it couldn’t have meant more to me. Marco held me all night long. He talked when I wanted to talk, he didn’t when I just wanted to be in silence. I don’t know what I’d be doing now without him.

  I haven’t really slept all that much, or all that well. I’m wide awake now but my phone still makes me jump when it vibrates against the bedside table.

  I wiggle free from Marco’s arms to grab it. Obviously, I still have Emma’s phone.

&nb
sp; It’s Rich.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, answering as fast as humanly possible.

  ‘Hi,’ a voice replies. It’s not Rich, it’s Emma.

  My own voice vanishes again.

  ‘Rich has just taken the kids out for a few hours so that I can move around the house without them seeing me,’ she says. ‘We’re going to have to figure that one out… Do you want to come over and talk?’

  ‘Yes,’ I reply, my voice cracking a little. ‘Sure, I’ll be right over.’

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Marco asks once I’ve hung up.

  I jump out of bed and start putting on my outfit from last night.

  ‘Yeah, Emma wants to talk,’ I tell him. ‘And I have to go over there looking like Sandra-fucking-D.’

  Marco is out of bed in a second.

  ‘Here, wear this,’ he says, handing me a plain black T-shirt to wear instead of my Bardot top. ‘Come here.’

  He wraps his arms around me for a few seconds and squeezes me tightly.

  ‘Listen to me – Emma is not your mum,’ he insists. ‘You have no idea what she’s going to say. Just keep calm and hear her out – and remember, however shitty this feels for you, she’s feeling worse.’

  ‘That’s pretty good advice,’ I tell him. ‘And exactly what I need to hear, thank you.’

  ‘I’m learning from the best,’ he says. ‘I’ll shove some clothes on and give you a lift.’

  Marco drives me over to Emma’s. He kisses me on the cheek before I get out of the car.

  ‘I’ve got your back,’ he says.

  ‘I know,’ I reply.

  I take a deep breath before letting myself in with my keys. I wander into the kitchen, where I find Emma sitting on the sofa with Marty cuddled up next to her, his head on her lap.

  ‘Hi,’ I say.

  ‘Hi,’ she replies. ‘Come in, sit down. Can I get you a cup of tea?’

  ‘I should be offering you the tea,’ I tell her.

  ‘Why, because it’s your house?’ she replies with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘No, Emma, because you’re ill,’ I point out. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you tell me you were going to prison? Did you really think people would judge you for being ill?’

  ‘Ella, the people in the village will judge anyone for absolutely anything,’ she reminds me. I knew that. ‘But that’s not the main reason. You know what it was like growing up with a mum who had cancer. I didn’t want that for my kids.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you were thinking,’ I say. ‘What was the plan? I thought you were supposed to be coming home next week. Were you just going to use me as a placeholder until…?’

  ‘Until I died?’ she says.

  ‘That’s not what I was going to say,’ I reply. ‘Is it that bad?’

  ‘The outlook is positive,’ she tells me. ‘They caught it early. They thought all I would need was an op, which was when I figured I could have you fill in for me, but afterwards, because the tumour was right on the threshold, size-wise, they said it was best I had chemo, to be on the safe side. To be honest, I’m sick of talking about it, and I know that, with Mum, you didn’t like to hear about it.’

  ‘Emma, it wasn’t that I didn’t like to hear about it. I was a teenager and my mum was dying,’ I remind her.

  ‘Yeah, and so was mine,’ she says. ‘I’m not sure you ever thought about that. And the main reason I didn’t tell you about me is because you couldn’t handle it before, with Mum.’

  ‘I’m thirty-four and I’m your sister – you should have told me,’ I insist. ‘Instead of turning up at the school and just blurting it out.’

  ‘That was never the plan,’ she admits. ‘I knew I was going to have to come up with an excuse to stay away longer because, look at me, I look nothing like me. You look like me. You’ve got my hair, my make-up, you wear my clothes, you have my family. But then I made the mistake of looking at the website, on Facebook, in my messages. And what do I see? You’ve taken over the website and completely changed it – and the forum is abuzz with rumours about me. You’re besties with my daughter, who apparently knows you’re actually her auntie, based on your messages to each other, and you’re having some sort of fling with Josh’s uncle. I just totally freaked out. But now I’m here, and I’m trying to look at things from the inside, with a clearer head.’

  ‘It’s not a fling,’ I tell her softly. ‘And we worked on the website together, and the ad revenue is pouring in now, the traffic is way up. And I did everything I could to keep Millie in the dark, but she needed me, so I stepped up. I really got through to her though. She’s so much better now, so much softer.’

  ‘You think you’re doing a better job at being me than I am?’ she says.

  ‘Oh, not at all,’ I insist. ‘I can see why you came back when you did.’

  ‘I think perhaps I was worried you were doing a better job at being me than I was,’ she admits.

  ‘May I remind you of the amateur dramatics at the fundraiser?’ I point out with a smile.

  ‘I was terrified the fundraiser was going to be a disaster,’ she replies. ‘It’s nothing like the event I would have thrown, not at all… but, dramatics aside, it turned out great. To be honest, people probably quite enjoyed the floorshow.’

  Emma ruffles Marty’s ears for a few seconds as she gathers her thoughts.

  ‘Thanks, for covering me, about John,’ she says. ‘It was a few months ago, before my diagnosis, and Rich was working all the time, I felt so alone. It was just a kiss and I’ve regretted it ever since. You don’t know how many times I’ve wondered if I’m being punished.’

  I reach out and take her hand.

  ‘That’s not how this works,’ I tell her. ‘And you know it.’

  ‘Not just for the kiss,’ she says. ‘I made a mistake, all those years ago. You needed me, after Mum died, and I let you down. She worried about you so much. She worried you wouldn’t be able to stand on your own two feet, she said you just needed the chance to shine, the opportunity to take care of yourself… but I shouldn’t have listened.’

  ‘It worked, didn’t it?’ I reply. ‘It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve done it, I’ve taken care of myself. I find it so easy to paint Mum as this villain when I think about her. I focus on how hard she was, all the embarrassing things she did, how often she wasn’t there. I’ve been reading her final book – I found the copy she gave me, in Rich’s office – and while I might not always agree with her advice, I know now that I shouldn’t let that distract me. Everything Mum did was for us. She worked all the hours she could because she was a single mum. She provided for us, she put us through school. My God, even when she was dying, she kept working, just to make sure she left us with something.’

  It’s only now that I’m saying it that I’m realising it. Mum worked and worked and worked and it was all for us.

  ‘I always thought she was favouring you and punishing me, for not having a family, as though she could have known I’d still be single at thirty-four. But she knew what she was doing. She didn’t want us to end up like most of the other rich brats around here.’

  ‘Mum loved you,’ Emma tells me. ‘She loved us both. She didn’t want to leave us.’

  ‘I know you’re not going to end up like Mum,’ I insist. ‘But you shouldn’t be keeping away from your kids right now, you should be spending even more time with them. They’re good, smart kids. They can handle it.’

  ‘You haven’t been doing a totally terrible job of being me,’ Emma admits, almost reluctantly. ‘You seem like you’ve come a long way since you were younger – I’m really proud of you and the work you’ve done here. And it doesn’t sound to me like you’re still single.’

  ‘Well, now that I’m no longer being you, I guess I have all that to figure out,’ I reply with a half-smile. ‘I need to work out how to be me again.’

  ‘Let’s go upstairs and pack your things,’ she suggests, carefully moving the dog before pulling herself to her feet.

  ‘Oh, OK,’ I
reply. ‘I can do that.’

  ‘It’s OK, I can help,’ she says. ‘We’re only moving you to the spare room.’

  ‘Oh… Are you sure?’

  ‘I know you’re keen to get on with your own life, but I could really do with you sticking around for a while,’ she says. ‘I’ll need help with the kids, and the house, and if you and Marco could keep up the good work at the website, because it sounds like you are actually doing a really good job… I’ve been trying to get the ad revenue up for years, with no luck.’

  I grab Emma, carefully because I have no idea how she’s feeling, and hug her.

  ‘I love you,’ I tell her. ‘Please don’t ever keep anything like this from me again.’

  I do understand why Emma did what she did, but it hurts my heart that she didn’t tell me. Everything makes so much sense now. Rich wasn’t having an affair, he was texting, calling and visiting Emma. That’s who the flowers were for. And when he seemed less stressed, it wasn’t because I was doing such a good job; it was probably because Emma had just found out the outlook was positive. I’m so, so relieved that it is.

  ‘I love you too,’ she replies. ‘If I call Rich and tell him to come back, will you help me tell the kids?’

  ‘Of course, I will,’ I reply. ‘We can figure this out together.’

  46

  Here I am, back where it all began, putting away my things in my old bedroom.

  I moved everything from Emma’s room down here, but I barely had time to sort through it before Rich was back with the kids and it was time to sit them down and explain everything. I think, having been through it, Emma and I knew exactly what we should and shouldn’t say.

  Millie knew that I’d been filling in for her mum but she had no idea why.

  ‘Are you going to be OK?’ she asked her mum. All at once she looked like a kid again, and all that anger and faux rebellion she aimed at Emma before, just vanished.

  ‘I am doing everything I am supposed to do to get better,’ Emma reassured her. ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easy.’