The Bottle of Tears

by Nick Alexander

  ‘I know . . .’ Victoria says. She sighs deeply. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I am. Really. I needed to see this doctor. It was important, if that helps. And she could only see me yesterday, so . . .’

  ‘You promised me. Promises aren’t things you can just . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria interrupts, sounding less sorry already. ‘But I have things going on you don’t know about. I have things I have to deal with. And sometimes they need to just take priority. But I’ll make it up to you. OK?’

  Penny blows through pursed lips. ‘Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? Going through her things like that? On my own?’

  ‘With Martin.’

  ‘No. On my own. I got there and you hadn’t turned up. And it was too hard, it was so hard, so I came around and you weren’t even home. You just don’t get it, do you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Oh, whatever,’ Penny spits. ‘So what’s wrong with you, anyway? What was so urgent that it just couldn’t wait?’ This better be good, she thinks.

  ‘I had to see a gynaecologist.’

  ‘Oh? Because?’

  ‘I’ve been having troubles. With my pelvic floor,’ Victoria says, sounding aggressive. ‘And with my vag, if you must know.’

  ‘Ooh. That sounds bad.’

  ‘Yes. And it’s not even the half of it.’

  ‘Is this . . . this isn’t menopause stuff, is it?’

  Victoria nods. ‘Yes, of course it is.’

  ‘I’ve been having hot flushes, I think,’ Penny says.

  Victoria laughs. ‘If that’s all it was! You have no idea what’s coming, little sister.’

  ‘So, what? You’re actually going through the menopause now?’

  ‘I’ve been perimenopausal for two years. It’s horrific.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Penny says. ‘Tell me what to expect.’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘I do. I think it’s starting. I’ve gone a bit . . . you know . . . dry. Is that part of it?’

  Victoria nods. ‘Plus, cramps and night sweats and waking up at 4 a.m. My sex drive vanished pretty early on. I can’t sleep – oh, I said that one already, didn’t I? My tits hurt. I pee myself when I cough. Um . . .’

  ‘Oooh,’ Penny says. ‘God, Vicky.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So what did the doctor say?’

  ‘Well, I had already seen two. My GP said I should take HRT. But not for more than five years. My other GP said it was dangerous . . .’

  ‘You have two GPs?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a long story.’

  ‘And he said it was dangerous why? Because of the cancer risk?’

  ‘Exactly. He said I needed to man up and knuckle down and various stupid bits of advice like that. I’m telling you, never go and see a man about the menopause.’

  ‘And this new one is a woman?’

  Victoria nods. ‘She’s a world-class specialist, actually. She’s written papers on it and stuff. That’s why I needed to see her. I wanted a definitive opinion. Plus, she’s old, of course. She’s sixty-five or something . . . So she knows what we’re dealing with here. Unlike Dr Dickhead.’

  ‘OK, and?’

  ‘You mean, what did she say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, it turns out the HRT cancer link is all a bit tenuous, actually. Well, it isn’t exactly tenuous, but the increased risk of breast cancer is offset by reductions in other risks, like colon cancer and what have you. It seriously reduces the risk of me throwing myself off a cliff, too, so that’s got to be good.’

  ‘So you’re going with HRT?’

  ‘I already did. I started a few months back. I’m starting to feel tons better, but I was sick with worry about it. So yesterday was good. She really put my mind at rest.’

  Penny tuts. ‘Oh, poor you,’ she says. ‘You never mentioned any of this to me before.’

  ‘You never asked me about any of this before.’

  ‘Well, no . . .’

  ‘But Mum must have told you, right?’

  Penny shakes her head. ‘Nope. Not a word. I didn’t even know . . . you know, that it was happening yet.’

  ‘No? Mum being discreet? That’s a new one. Anyway, the long and short of it is, never consult a man about women’s problems – they have no idea.’

  ‘And you can take the HRT for five years, you say?’

  Victoria shakes her head. ‘Uh-uh,’ she says. ‘I could potentially take it forever as long as the check-ups are OK. Fabulous, isn’t it? No menopause for me, Sister.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And I’m feeling tons better. I’m telling you, if you’re starting to have problems, just go get that HRT.’

  Penny nods. ‘Wow,’ she says. ‘You’re like an HRT salesperson or something.’

  ‘I am. I feel quite evangelical about it, actually.’

  ‘And you really trust this doctor?’

  ‘Totally. I mean, look . . . I’ve seen three people and had three completely different opinions. So at some point you have to choose whichever truth suits you, right? But she has the best credentials on the subject of anyone I could find. There’s a seven-month waiting list just to see her, only she had a cancellation five minutes before I phoned. That was why I had to go yesterday.’

  ‘OK. I hear you,’ Penny says. She downs the last of her drink. ‘More wine?’ she asks.

  Victoria nods. ‘Oh yes,’ she says. ‘More wine!’

  When Penny returns, Victoria surprises her by looking up and asking, ‘Do you think we’ll ever be friends again, Pen?’

  Penny hands Victoria her drink. ‘Maybe,’ she says. ‘Is that why you’re here, then? To patch things up?’

  Victoria shrugs. ‘Partly,’ she says. ‘I mean, I really want that to happen. But I’m mainly here because of Bertie, to be honest.’

  Penny slides back into her deckchair. ‘Now that, you see, I don’t get. I thought the whole point of Bertie coming was to give him, and you, some space. Martin even asked me if I could try to find out what he’s so upset about, seeing as he won’t talk to either of you.’

  Victoria looks shocked. ‘Martin asked you to find out?’

  Penny nods.

  ‘Oh. Gosh.’

  ‘Why would that be a surprise?’ Penny asks. ‘He’s bound to be as worried about Bertie as you are.’

  Victoria nods vaguely. ‘I guess,’ she says. ‘It’s just, well, I was worried that Martin was part of the problem, I suppose.’

  ‘How so?’

  Victoria shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. But anyway, Will knows now, apparently. So, hopefully, he’ll let us all in on the secret.’

  ‘Will?’

  Victoria nods and sips some more wine. ‘He texted me,’ she says. ‘On the way down. Apparently, Bertie opened up to him in the car. So we’re just inches away from knowing what all this is about. Finally!’

  ‘Ah!’ Penny exclaims. ‘So that’s why you’re here. To interrogate Will? It’s not about us at all.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that,’ Victoria says.

  ‘Don’t be like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Always looking for a reason to hate me. I’m happy to be here. We’re talking again.’

  ‘We are,’ Penny says flatly.

  ‘We haven’t spoken properly for ages.’

  ‘And that’s my fault?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Victoria says. ‘But I’m here now, so that’s got to be good, hasn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose,’ Penny says, struggling to sound less doubtful than she feels.

  The sisters continue to drink. When the first bottle of Prosecco has been emptied, Penny pulls a fresh one from the fridge, along with a tub of anchovy-stuffed olives.

  The sun moves slowly across the patch of sky and the wispy clouds seemingly burn off, making the day even brighter, even hotter.

  Penny repeatedly tells Victoria how angry she is about everything she has had to deal with, and Victoria repeatedly apologises. And ye
t neither of them sounds particularly convincing, not Victoria in her sorrow, nor Penny in her anger. Because though they have managed to avoid the realisation for the last ten months, they are still sisters: there is a profound non-logical, non-linguistic connection between them, a unity borne of DNA and blood and shared history. And deep down, Penny has always known, even as she pretended otherwise, that her sister would not have left her to deal with these things alone unless there was simply no other way. We all do the best we can, Penny knows this. No one sets out to disappoint or fail others, especially not their family members. And she now lets herself realise that this applies to Victoria as well. She lets herself understand that Victoria simply didn’t have what it took to help her at that moment. And the more she lets her sister talk, the more she lets her explain what she’s been going through, the easier that becomes to understand.

  By 3 p.m. Victoria is slurring her words.

  ‘So where is Martin, anyway?’ Penny asks her.

  ‘Ah,’ Victoria says. ‘Poor Martin. I left him a note. I’m afraid I’ve been treating him even worse than I have you, lately.’

  ‘Really?’ Penny says. ‘I find that hard to imagine.’

  ‘Yes,’ Victoria says, raising her glass and almost missing her lips. ‘I’ve been pretty mean to Martin.’

  ‘But why?’

  Victoria shrugs. ‘Well, the whole meno thing hasn’t been very sexy.’

  ‘No. No, I get that,’ Penny agrees. ‘Our sex life has taken a hit recently as well.’

  ‘Of course, that’s all easing off now my oestrogen levels are back up. But all the same.’

  ‘All the same, what?’

  Victoria shakes her head vaguely. ‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘It’s this Bertie business, I suppose. I need it to resolve. It’s been affecting me. It has been affecting everything, really.’

  ‘Because you think Martin’s part of the problem?’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ Victoria says. ‘But that’s what’s so scary, isn’t it? People never know.’

  ‘People never know what?’

  Victoria shrugs and sighs. ‘Terrible things go on in some families, don’t they? And everyone’s always, kind of, “Oh, I had no idea that Auntie Flo was a Satanist. I had no idea she’d been crucifying virgins in the cellar.”’ She runs her tongue across her teeth. She’s having a little trouble getting it to curl around words like ‘crucifying’.

  ‘You don’t think Martin is . . . I mean, you surely don’t think he has . . .’ Penny stammers.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Victoria says. ‘But my son wants to leave home. He took a bloody overdose rather than going on holiday with his father. So something’s wrong, right? And I’m just desperately trying not to be . . . well, not to be like her, I suppose.’

  ‘Like who?’ Penny asks.

  They are interrupted by Will and Ben, whose faces have appeared above the garden wall. ‘Hello, ladies!’ Will says. ‘Now, this is a surprise!’

  ‘Hi, Will,’ Victoria says. ‘Hi, Ben.’

  ‘Can we come and join the party?’ Will asks.

  ‘Sure,’ Penny says, struggling to lever herself from the deckchair, then crossing the garden to unbolt the gate. ‘What happened to my husband?’ she asks, peering down the alley.

  ‘Oh, we sold him to some Thai prawn fishermen,’ Will says. ‘Ten years in slavery, but you get unlimited king prawns. Good deal, huh?’

  ‘He’s on the beach,’ Ben explains. ‘With the kids. We just came back for our swimming costumes, really.’

  ‘Damn!’ Victoria says. ‘I knew I’d forgotten something. I didn’t bring my cossie.’

  ‘I’ll lend you one, I’ll go get it now,’ Penny says, vanishing into the darkness of the house.

  ‘So, Will,’ Victoria says, patting the deckchair beside her. ‘Tell me all.’

  Will smiles at her lopsidedly but remains standing. ‘I can’t,’ he says. ‘I promised. And you shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that,’ Victoria says. ‘Come and sit down and tell me everything.’

  ‘You’re pissed, aren’t you?’ Will laughs.

  ‘So are you,’ Ben comments. ‘Actually, so am I.’

  ‘Yeah, but not as pissed as her. Look at her! She can hardly sit straight.’

  Victoria pulls a face. She tries to look sober and outraged but just ends up looking even more intoxicated. ‘So, come on,’ she says again. ‘Spill the beans.’

  ‘It’s nothing serious,’ Will says. ‘That’s all you need to know. I mean, Bertie thinks it’s serious, obviously. But it isn’t. And I can’t tell you, so don’t ask me to. I can try to persuade Bertie to tell you, and I’m working on that. But I won’t break my promise to him. And you really shouldn’t have come.’

  He looks up to see that Penny has returned. She’s standing in the shadow of the doorway to the kitchen with a towel and an orange swimming costume in one hand. As she steps out into the sunshine, Will sees that she has a strange expression on her face, a look of amused illumination.

  ‘I just worked it out,’ Penny says. ‘God, it’s so obvious.’

  Will shakes his head solemnly, trying to interrupt her flow. But Penny isn’t looking at Will. She’s looking at Victoria instead, who is stretching and straining in her deckchair as she attempts to look back at her. ‘What?’ Victoria asks. ‘What did you work out?’

  ‘Well, he’s gay, isn’t he? That’ll be why he told Will. Bertie’s gay, that’s all! God, I can’t believe we didn’t spot it before!’

  ‘But . . .’ Victoria says, straining to the side in an attempt to see Penny’s face more clearly. And then, suddenly, after the briefest of creaks and a short, sharp crack, she’s lying on the floor, the collapsed deckchair beneath her.

  Everyone bursts out laughing and when Will manages to say, ‘. . . so surprised, she fell out of her chair . . .’, even Victoria manages a smile.

  Ben holds out one hand and pulls her to her feet, and when Penny has managed to stop laughing Victoria says, ‘So, are you serious? About Bertie?’

  Penny raises her palms. ‘Hey, don’t ask me,’ she says. ‘Ask him.’

  Victoria turns to Will.

  ‘This isn’t fair,’ Will says earnestly. ‘It’s not fair on Bertie, and it’s not fair on me.’

  ‘But is it true?’ Victoria asks. ‘For Christ’s sake, just tell me.’

  ‘You’re going to have to pretend not to know,’ Will says. ‘That’s gonna be really important.’

  ‘Fine!’ Victoria says. ‘I’ll pretend anything you want. But is that really it? Is that really what’s been going on?’ She rubs her hip where it hit the frame of the deckchair when she fell. She’s going, she thinks, to have a bruise.

  Will nods reluctantly.

  Victoria raises one hand to cover her mouth but then moves it up to her eyes and begins to cry.

  Will, opposite, looks devastated by her reaction. He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again when no words come out. Ben moves to his side and slides one arm around his waist. ‘Come,’ he says softly, trying to pull Will away from a scene which is clearly causing him pain.

  ‘No,’ Will says, shrugging his arm off. ‘Wait!’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Victoria sobs.

  ‘Jesus!’ Will exclaims. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  Penny moves to her sister’s side and strokes her shoulder tentatively. She pulls an unhappy face at Will and then says, ‘Will’s right, Vicky. It’s really not the worst thing in the world.’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ Victoria splutters, finally lowering her hand to reveal her glistening eyes. ‘I’m just so relieved!’

  ‘Relieved?’ Will asks, his expression shifting from dismay to amusement.

  ‘Yes!’ Victoria says. ‘I mean, if that’s all that’s wrong? If, the whole time, it’s just been about that. God! Why didn’t he just say? I need to call Martin.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Will says.

  ‘I really do.’

  ‘Please
,’ Will says. ‘Just hold off. Let’s see if we can get Bertie to tell you first, OK?’

  It takes Victoria fifteen minutes to regain her composure and another five to reapply her make-up. The four adults then pull on their swimming costumes and head to the beach.

  ‘Don’t forget,’ Will says as they cross the road.

  ‘Be surprised, yes, you said,’ Victoria replies, then, ‘How about I take you all out for a meal tonight? A sort of secret celebration that the mystery has been solved?’

  ‘We’re having pizza on the beach,’ Penny tells her. ‘It’s all organised, I’m afraid.’

  ‘All right,’ Victoria says. ‘But I’ll pay, OK?’

  ‘There’s really no need,’ Penny says.

  ‘You can pay for mine,’ Will offers cheekily.

  The beach is crowded, and they struggle to find Sander and the kids for the simple reason that they are all swimming. But eventually, Penny recognises three of their towels, so they lay their own beside them and head down to the water’s edge. ‘They’re over there,’ Penny says, pointing to a buoy in the distance around which four figures are floating.

  Ben gets no farther than his ankles before saying, ‘Jesus! It’s freezing.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Will says, wading in.

  ‘I’ll, um, stay back here to guard our stuff, I think,’ Ben says, even though, other than towels, they haven’t brought anything.

  ‘Of course you will.’ Will laughs.

  Victoria, who is now knee-deep, changes her mind as well. ‘I think I’ll stay with you, Ben,’ she says. ‘I need to talk to someone about this whole Bertie thing, and you’re as good as anyone.’

  ‘Why, thank you, ma’am,’ Ben says, his tone of voice caustic.

  ‘So, what do I tell him?’ Will calls back.

  ‘Bertie?’ Victoria asks.

  ‘Yes. Why are you here? Officially, I mean.’

  Victoria shrugs. ‘I was jealous,’ she says. ‘Yes, tell him I was jealous of his weekend at the seaside. Tell him I decided to come and join you all. That’ll do it.’

  ‘OK,’ Will says. ‘We’ll go with that for now.’

  The next morning, Penny comes downstairs to find Victoria loading the dishwasher.

  ‘Ooh, hello,’ she says. ‘The cleaning fairy has returned.’