“One of them, look” I took the box from her and looked inside, it was filled with watches.
“How come he had this many? I didn’t know dad collected watches?”
“He didn’t collect them, they’re all the watches he’s ever owned since we got married. Birthday gifts, wedding anniversaries, he kept them all.”
“Wow, Mum…that’s amazing, did you know he had these?” I picked a few up in turn and looked at them, my parents had been married a little over forty years so there were some old timepieces here.
“I didn’t know he’d kept any of them, the sentimental old fool.” She choked back a sob and dabbed at her eyes. Immy joined us on the bed and we both put our arms around our mother while she cried. This rare moment of mother/daughter/sibling solidarity was strangely comforting. Physical contact from my mother was hard won, with me anyway. Immy was the golden girl in Mum’s eyes so I gleaned an almost morbid satisfaction from our shared grief. It had taken Dad’s death for my mother and I to share a genuine feeling of togetherness. Dad would be smiling right now if he was here.
“Mum, do you want to keep them?” Immy asked.
“I don’t think so love. What use are they to me anyway? I don’t need trinkets to remember him by. He’s gone but I have him in here, always.” She said and placed her hand over her heart.
“Do you mind if I have them?” I needed the trinkets, I couldn’t believe Mum didn’t want at least one of them. I’d keep them safe for her, sure she’d change her mind at some point. In all honesty, it seemed a bit callous getting rid of Dad’s stuff so soon. Or maybe it was just me struggling with letting him go. Dad had always been the more affectionate of the two so it was hardly surprising to find evidence of his sentimentality stashed away. Dad and I were the same, he loved my mother unconditionally and with his whole heart. When I loved, I loved hard and with everything I had. Unfortunately, it resulted in a lot of heartbreak for me so far but I knew of no other way to be. I hoped one day I’d be lucky like Mum and find someone who loved me the way Dad had loved her. I needed to keep those watches as a reminder that real love was attainable, even for someone like me.
“Have them if you want them dear, Dad would like that.” She patted my arm, blew her nose and cleared her throat.
“Ready to carry on?” Imogen asked Mum.
“Yes, love. Lots to get done before…” she stopped short and glanced at my sister. The poignancy of the look didn’t escape my notice.
“Before what?” I looked at my mother, she bit her lip. “Mum?” My mother stayed nervously silent so I raised a questioning eyebrow at my sister instead. “Well?”
“Naomi, we were going to tell you before I left for New Zealand next week. Mum wanted to give you time to…to feel better.”
“Tell me what? I’m not sick. What do you mean feel better?” I got the feeling I wasn’t going to like this, at all. The looks passing between Immy and Mum made me realise I was very much out of the loop. They’d clearly been discussing something that I wasn’t included in. That hurt. I was the older sister for God’s sake. I should be the first to know!
“Well dear, Dad and I …we…had planned to go anyway, for a holiday,” She paused, a slightly hesitant placatory smile on her lips.
“To New Zealand? Yeah, I know. So, you’re still going then, is that it?” I asked.
Silence.
“Oh for goodness sake!” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just spit it out, what?”
“Mum’s moving,” Imogen blurted, “she’s coming to live with us- me and Fletcher.” There was a pause where the three of us stood in awkward silence, unmoving. Mum’s eyes flicked nervously over to Immy and back towards me. The tension in the air crackled and boiled under the surface, threatening to erupt. Of course, the eruption just had to be my doing, I didn’t do calm very well.
“I’m sorry what? You’re moving? Since when?” I was incredulous! This was massive news and yet neither my mother nor my sister had thought to even discuss it with me.
“Don’t get mad Naomi.” said Mum.
“I’m not getting mad!” Admittedly my voice was now raised.
“Calm down Sis!” Imogen said.
“No! I bloody won’t calm down. Why am I the last person to know about this? When was this decided?” I demanded.
“Your father and I have…had,” she corrected, “discussed it months ago. We were going to use the holiday to look around and see what we thought of the place. We had already applied for the visas and everything, just in case. We didn’t want to waste time if we decided on the move, we wanted to go as soon as we could.”
“And no one thought it might be a nice idea to tell me first? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“We wanted to, honestly! It’s just with what’s going on with you lately…you know?” Immy shrugged her shoulders in my direction.
“And what exactly is going on with me?” I was very curious to know. Immy shook her head.
“Now isn’t really the time to discuss this Sis.”
“Au contraire!” The biting sarcasm dripped from my tongue, laced with acid. “I think it’s the perfect ruddy time quite frankly, I’m all ears! Really interested in what you and Mother have been saying about me behind my back?”
“Please stop dear, I can’t deal with your issues right now.” Mum begged but I was too far gone to back down. Betrayal raged inside of me and began to boil over from the volcano of fucked up emotions that was me. “Naomi! You’re twenty-nine years old, you’re a grown woman with your own life and you’re wasting it! I can’t deal with these outbursts you have and now the lying too? I just don’t understand you. Dad and I wanted to spend our…our last years,” she couldn’t finish and started crying again.
“Nice, Naomi!” Imogen scolded. She put her hand on Mum’s shoulder in sympathetic gesture. They were joining forces against me. Just a few minutes ago we had sat together, the three of us in consolation and unity, I had felt like a useful and needed member of our family for once. Now it was painfully clear that had been mere illusion. I wasn’t part of anything, not really, not now Dad was gone. The secret plans I had not been privy to, the conspiracy between them both that I had so purposefully been excluded from, spoke volumes. I was an outsider. I was the black sheep and my opinions meant shit. The fact that my Dad, the one person I trusted, had also chosen to exclude me, was like salt in the wound.
“Oh right. I see. I get left in the dark about my parents emigrating to another country, Dad dies and I’m only just hearing about it because Mum slipped up and I’m the guilty one? How the fuck does that work? And lying? What the hell am I lying about?” I was furious beyond reason, I buried the pang of guilt I’d felt for making Mum cry under the pile of resentment I felt for them both.
“You know what,” Imogen said, I did not like her accusatory tone. “I’ve tried to be patient with you because I know how you get. It’s just like before… after Iain.”
“Just what the hell do you mean by that? What has that idiot got to do with anything?” Now I was really confused.
“I told Mum, about your boyfriend…that you won’t admit to me he’s real, that you’re convinced he’s some figment of your imagination. Remember?”
“Joe? This is about Joe?” I laughed. “Jesus Christ Imogen, first off, I told you that in confidence and secondly, it’s Dr Blanchard that told me he’s imaginary and I happen to agree with her!”
“I saw him Naomi! He was in your flat, standing right behind you!”
“Then perhaps it’s YOU that needs your head read! Ever think of that?” I could not believe she was bringing this up in front of Mum, although by the sound of it she’d already discussed it with her anyway. My sister and I hadn’t had much time alone to talk since she arrived back in England, with the funeral and everything else it’d been difficult but she’d taken me to one side one morning before our mum got up and asked me to tell her about my new man. When we’d discussed it, I concluded it must have been some strange coincidental mix up. I’d
had some kind of hallucination and Imogen had seen a shadow reflected in the background that she had mistaken for a person. It was the only logical explanation. She had protested of course but I thought I had managed to persuade her it was due to the darkened room and the camera playing up on the laptop. Clearly I’d been wrong. Instead, it seems she had convinced herself and my mum that I was having a mental breakdown. Fan-bloody-tastic! I mean, granted, seeing imaginary book boyfriends wasn’t exactly what one would call sane but still. “Why on earth would you think I’d lie about having a boyfriend? More to the point why would I make up some bullshit story about him not being real if he was real?”
“For attention.” Mum stated, as if it was already a foregone conclusion.
“Attention? Are you serious? Oh my lord! I’m not a child!”
“See this is why we didn’t want to tell you yet, you’re so…sensitive…Mum and I thought you needed more time.” Imogen said.
“Sensitive? Ha ha! Sensitive? My father just died! So please, tell me how am I supposed to be?”
“He’s my Dad too.” Imogen replied.
“Yeah, but apparently you’re not a fuck up like me eh? You are mentally capable of helping plan our parents’ future all by your pretty little lonesome! Right?” I raised my arms, palms up towards the ceiling, emphasising the sarcasm in my question. “Well. That’s just fabulous isn’t it! I might as well just bugger off home now then eh? I mean it’s not like anyone needs my help with anything.”
“Naomi, don’t!”
“Don’t what? Leave? Why not? I’m clearly just the spare part, crack pot daughter that nobody really gives a shit about. So yeah, I’m going home! I’m sure you can manage dearest sister.” I virtually spat the last word out, I wanted her to feel the depth of her betrayal. I expected that kind of thing from Mum but not from Immy. Tears threatened to fall but I refused to let them. The anger I felt pushed them aside as I stormed out of my childhood home, slamming the door behind me and shutting out my mother’s sobs.
***
When I arrived at my flat, I let the silence welcome me home. I closed and locked the door, turned off my phone and shut all the curtains. I wanted no disturbances, no contact from anyone. The world and I were enemies right now. In here it was just me alone, with nobody getting in the way of my thinking. The weight of my mother and sister’s betrayal pressed down on me so hard I felt suffocated by it. I wasn’t perfect, I knew that but I was trying, really trying to make my life better. Had all my efforts been for nothing then, that my family still thought I was incapable of managing myself? I’d leaned on them, especially my parents, after Iain but they were my family, isn’t that what family was for? Mum always managed to make me feel like whatever I did, no matter how much effort I expended, it wasn’t quite enough. She never seemed satisfied with me somehow. I always came away feeling like I was her biggest disappointment. Dad was the only one who ever told me he was proud of me for scraping myself off the floor and starting again after the divorce. Mum just made me feel I’d let her down for falling so hard, almost as if she thought I had allowed myself to hit rock bottom. I’m sure she took it as a personal insult to her ability to raise a mentally capable adult. She made me feel like an embarrassment, that having a daughter who suffered from depression was something to be ashamed of. That’s exactly how I felt now, even worse because my one ally, Imogen, had crossed over to the enemy camp! It had taken guts admitting to having hallucinations and telling her about Dr Blanchard. I had thought they’d be happy for me that this time, I had at least recognised there was a problem and sought help. I was angry and hurt that I had again been made to feel like the crazy relative in a gothic novel, stashed away in the attic out of public view. To think that they had been treading on eggshells around me and talking about me behind my back. But then that was typical of my mother, she never gave me credit for anything. Immy, I couldn’t even think about her right now, Mummy’s little favourite and always had been. Well, they could go live happily ever after in New Zealand together and forget about me if that’s what they wanted. I had no one and nothing now Dad was gone. I wouldn’t feel guilty about being a crap, neglectful daughter anymore. I would do what the hell I liked with who I liked and nobody would be around to care.
The front door buzzer startled me. I ignored it, not feeling very sociable. It buzzed twice more in quick succession followed by one long continuous, insistent ring. I knew who it was and I really didn’t want to talk to her. Now was not the time for another argument but she kept ringing the damn buzzer!
“What?” I said curtly into the intercom.
“Naomi, please let me in? I go home next week and I can’t leave things like this, Mum’s really upset.”
“Oh, is she? So, what… you’ve come to get me to apologise to her? Cause that’s not going to happen, so don’t bother.”
“No. I just don’t want to leave like this. Mum’s going to be on her own for a few weeks before she comes over, she’s going to need you.” I found that comment hilarious!
“Sorry dear sister, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not mentally stable enough to look after anyone…not even myself, apparently.”
“Oh come on, Naomi! You know that’s not what we meant. Even you must admit you’re going through the ringer again, we were just worried about you because we love you. You must see that?”
Must I? I thought. Telling me what to think again!
“Naomi? I brought Dad’s watches.”
“Ahh, emotional blackmail is it now?”
“And wine…”
I could use a drink. I buzzed her in. I waited until I heard her tentative knock on my door until I opened it. She stood there, a sheepish smile on her face, holding up a big bottle of Prosecco and an overnight bag.
“I’m not supposed to be drinking.” I said. She looked disappointed. Good.
“Oh, I didn’t know, sorry. Can I come in?”
“What’s the bag for?” Still not letting her step past the door.
“Um, I thought I’d stay over? We could have a girlie night, like we used to?” She waggled the bottle at me and smiled.
“Fine!” OK, I’d take the wine and I’d let her think she was forgiven. “I hope that bottle is chilled? I hate warm wine.” She stepped over the threshold grinning.
“I thought you weren’t drinking?” She asked playfully. I just tilted my head at her with a raised eyebrow. She laughed. Placing the bottle on the kitchen counter, she walked over to the lounge and dumped her bag. I got out two mismatched wine glasses and popped the cork on the wine. I held up her glass and offered it to her, she took it from me and put it back on the counter.
“Sorry.”
“It hurt Immy.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Forgive me?” She hung her head on her chest and pouted. I could never resist her when she acted daft. And although I didn’t want them to, my arms wrapped around her in a big sisterly hug. Why was it that the youngest sibling always got away with everything?
“Come on you,” I gave her back her wine glass and headed off toward the lounge. “So, what are we watching, Love Actually or Bridesmaids?” I held up the two DVDs for her to choose.
“Bridesmaids! I fancy a laugh.”
“Bridesmaids it is then.” I supposed I could forget about it for now, although I still burned with resentment inside, she was my baby sister and she was leaving again next week. For my own peace of mind, I couldn’t realistically let her leave thinking there was bad blood between us. I pushed aside the hurt for tonight, for my own sake more than hers and carried on as if nothing was broken. This ostrich had her head well and truly stuck in the ground.
We curled up on the sofa, drank wine, ordered a curry and laughed at the film as if we were just two devoted sisters enjoying each other’s company and nothing was wrong. But it was, for me at least. The trust was gone. It pained me to know that my own sister, my most loyal friend had spilt my most intimate secret to the one person I least wanted to know about it. It had not be
en her secret to tell but she’d done it anyway, regardless of her ‘good intentions’ she had betrayed my trust and I wasn’t going to forget that in a hurry.
My sister fell asleep before the end of the film, she had drunk more wine than me and I’d been happy to let her. Her tiny snores indicated my plan had worked, I turned everything off, gathered up the empty glasses and plates and took myself off to bed. Not before covering up Sleeping Beauty with a fluffy throw rug first, I didn’t want to neglect my ‘sisterly duties’ obviously.
I had longed for the solitude of my bedroom. Revelling in the peace the enclosed darkness offered. Reaching for my laptop, I searched for Laney Marsh’s email address and composed an email, attached a file and clicked send. There. It was done. I had finally sent her the finished proof of her book ‘All the best boys’. One chapter of my life was done with. I’d made the decision to never take on another fiction for proofing again. I’d keep proofing non-fiction for a while, to pay the bills, but from now on, the only fiction I’d be working on was my own. Starting with me and Joe.
Chapter Eight
Joe
This time I was standing at the foot of her bed while she typed furiously on her laptop. She hadn’t noticed me yet, at least she wasn’t crying, that was something. I remembered how frustrating the last dream had been- fuzzy and distorted. I hadn’t been able to talk to her or comfort her and then it had ended as it always did, blackness and nothing. I remembered each dream the moment I stepped into another. That beautiful face I was slowly becoming enamoured with no explanation as to why, just that I was. Looking down at my body I was happy to find the murky, coloured swirls of my last dream had been replaced with almost solid looking limbs. The typing stopped and it drew my eyes back to her. Her fingers resting on the keyboard and she chewed her bottom lip as she read over whatever it was she had typed. The action drew my attention to her mouth, her lips were not full and pouty but beautifully shaped and well proportioned. The hint of teeth grazing her lip sent a wave of desire through me, I suddenly found myself wanting to kiss her. As if hearing my thought, she uttered a shaky sigh and moaned,
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