by Nicci French
A few days later, they arrived unannounced, ringing my doorbell when I'd just sunk into a hot bath after a sweaty day up a ladder. I cursed, pulled on an old towelling robe and opened the door, letting in the damp evening air. Kerry had an eager smile on her face, and Brendan was brandishing a bunch of flowers. 'Is this a bad time?'
'I was just having a bath.' I pulled my robe tighter and clutched it at the neck.
'We can make ourselves at home while you finish,' said Brendan. 'Can't we, Kerry?'
'No, it's OK. Come on in.'
I stepped back reluctantly and they followed me into the living room. Kerry sat on the sofa, but Brendan stood squarely in the middle of the room, gazing around proprietorially.
'You've changed where the furniture is.'
'A bit.'
'I liked it better the way it was before. Don't you want to put the flowers in water?'
'Yes. Thanks.' Actually, I wanted to jam them into the overflowing bin.
'Have you eaten?' he asked, as if I were the one who'd come barging in, not him.
'No. I'm not really hungry. I'll have a snack later.' I took a deep breath, then said, 'Do you want a coffee? Or something alcoholic?'
'Wine would be nice,' he said.
I took the bottle from the fridge that Nick had brought round the last time he came.
'Shall I open it for you?'
'I can do it fine.'
He held up his hands in mock alarm. 'Whoa! Of course you can, Mirrie. I was just being polite.'
I stabbed the corkscrew into the cork and twisted it down crookedly. When I pulled, only half the cork came out. Brendan watched me, smiling sympathetically, as I gingerly extracted the crumbled remains of the cork from the bottle and poured three glasses. He held his up to the light and carefully picked out a few bits of cork from the wine before drinking.
'We should have brought a bottle round ourselves,' said Kerry. 'Because, actually, we have a favour to ask.'
'Yes?' I asked warily.
'Well, something amazing's happened. You know that man who was coming round a second time to look at my flat on Sunday?'
'Yes.'
'He's made an offer. Only a bit less than what we were asking.'
'That's brilliant,' I said.
'He seems really keen. And he's a first-time buyer. He's not in a chain at all.'
'But he is in a hurry,' interjected Brendan.
'Ah,' I said. I had a horrible, horrible feeling that I knew where this was going.
'He seems to think,' said Kerry, 'that he can exchange and complete in a matter of a week or two. He says his solicitor told him that as long as she can do the search immediately and there's no problem with the survey, then he could be in by the end of next week.'
'It has been known,' I said dully.
'But Bren's already given up the place he was renting and we can't move into our new flat by then,' said Kerry, 'though the owner's in an old people's home and our solicitor promises she'll do it as quickly as possible.'
'So,' said Brendan, smiling at me. He poured himself a second glass of wine and took a slurp of it.
'So if that happens, which maybe it won't anyway, we're in a bit of a fix,' said Kerry. 'And we wondered if we could come and stay at yours. Only for a few days, a week or two at the very most.'
'What about…?'
'Of course we'd go to Derek and Marcia's,' said Brendan, 'except their house is going to be a complete bomb site for the next few months. Well, you know better than us the nightmare that can be to live in. They might even have to move out for a bit themselves.'
'Would it be possible, Miranda?' asked Kerry.
I wondered why Kerry wanted to stay with me in the first place. If it had been the other way round, I would have tried to keep a safe distance between Brendan and his ex-girlfriend, not put them in the same small flat together, even if – or especially if – that ex-girlfriend was my sister. Maybe I just had a more suspicious nature than she did. Or maybe she was asserting to herself, and to me and Brendan, that she knew she had nothing to fear. I looked at her, but I couldn't read her expression.
'My flat's so small,' I said hopelessly. 'I haven't even got a spare bedroom.'
'You've got your sofa bed,' said Brendan.
'It might not even happen,' said Kerry. 'And we won't get in your way. We'll keep everything tidy and cook for you, and you'll hardly notice us before we're gone. A week.'
'Haven't you got friends with a bigger place? Where you'd be more comfortable.'
'Miranda, you're my sister.' Kerry had tears in her eyes. She darted a look at Brendan and he took her hand and stroked it. 'You're family. It's not such a big thing we're asking. Mum and Dad were certain you wouldn't mind. I thought you wouldn't mind. I thought you might even be pleased to have us here. It didn't occur to me that
'Perhaps Mirrie is still finding it painful,' said Brendan softly.
'What?!'
'We shouldn't have asked you,' continued Brendan. 'It wasn't fair. Maybe you're not ready for this.'
I squeezed my wine glass so tightly in my hand I thought it would break.
'But you do kind of owe it to Kerry, don't you?' His voice was still soft and insinuating. 'After what happened. Mmm? Mmm?'
'Sorry?' said Kerry.
I stared at Brendan. There was red behind my eyes and I thought of throwing my wine into his face, of smashing my glass against his cheek, of kicking him in the legs, punching him as hard as I could in his belly, pushing him violently out of the door.
'Miranda?' said Kerry. 'Just a few days?'
I turned to her and tried to focus on her reproachful face. I thought of lying in my bed and knowing Brendan was a few feet away, on the sofa, with my sister. Of getting up in the morning and seeing him sitting at the kitchen table, as if he belonged there. Bumping into him on my way to the bathroom… But maybe I could stay with Nick for a night or two, or even with Laura. Maybe go away for the weekend somewhere. Anywhere.
'All right,' I said. 'One week.'
Kerry gripped my hand, and Brendan came towards me with outstretched arms. If he touched me, I would scream, vomit, become violent. I ducked out of reach.
'I'm going to have that interrupted bath now,' I said. 'Finish your wine.'
The water was tepid, but I lowered myself into it anyway. I closed my eyes and sank beneath the surface, where I waited for my heart to stop battering itself against my chest. When I came up for air, I heard a knocking at the door, Brendan calling my name.
'What?'
'The phone for you. I answered it. Hope you don't mind.'
'Who is it?' I asked, reaching for a towel.
'Someone called Nick,' said Brendan. 'He seemed a bit surprised to get me.'
I yanked open the door and marched through to the living room. 'I'll take it in my bedroom. You can put it down out here.'
'Is this Nick your new boyfriend?' When I didn't answer he put his arm around Kerry and pulled her close to him before saying, 'That's wonderful news, Mirrie. We're so glad for you.'
I pulled sharply at my bedroom door and it shut with a bang. I picked up the phone.
'Nick?'
'I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you?'
'All the better for speaking to you,' I said.
Then I heard breathing. There was someone on the other line. I waited until there was a small click. A few moments later, I heard the front door shut.
CHAPTER 9
I leaned over the dishes of curry and cleared my throat.
'There's something I want to say. It's nothing serious,' I added, seeing his suddenly wary look. 'I just felt that when we were talking with Laura and Tony, things came out wrong.'
'It's not a big deal,' Nick said.
'I know it isn't,' I said. 'But I've been thinking. I want to be completely straight with you.'
'Weren't you being straight?'
'I was, but it came out in a confused way that felt wrong. So I want to tell you about it in a clear way. It's rea
lly very simple.'
I took a sip of wine and then gave him a basic digest of what had happened with Brendan and Kerry and my family.
'You see,' I said. 'He was someone I had no strong feelings about, except maybe that by the end I thought he was a bit of a creep. But now he's with my sister and everybody's going on about how she's happier than she's ever been, so, you know…'
'So maybe you're starting to wonder if you made a mistake.'
'What do you mean?'
'Breaking up with him.'
I pulled a face.
'Oh, God, not for a single second. I broke up with him assuming I'd never see him again, and now he's part of the furniture.'
Nick cut a piece of tandoori chicken with his fork and ate it with deliberation.
'So why did you go out with him if he's a creep?'
'We only saw each other a few times. Then I stopped going out with him.'
'It's strange to think of you with someone like that.'
'Have you never started going out with someone and then gradually realized that you didn't like them that much after that?'
'I don't know,' said Nick.
'You've never been attracted to someone and then once you've got over the attraction found that there was nothing left?'
'I'm just wondering what you'll think when you get to know me,' said Nick.
'I think I know,' I said. 'That's why I'm going to such trouble to explain it to you.'
'You don't need to explain anything to me.'
'But…'
'Let's go home.'
Afterwards we lay side by side, the room dark except for the glow of the street lights around the curtain edges. I lay with my head on Nick's chest, stroking his stomach softly down to the edge of his soft pubic hair. His breathing was slow and regular, and I thought he might be asleep, but then he spoke.
'What did he say?'
'What?' I said.
'Brendan,' Nick said. 'What was it he said? I mean, what did he really say?'
I raised myself on an elbow and looked down at his face.
'You can ask me anything, you know,' I said.
'That's why I'm asking.'
'I was going on to say that some things aren't good to know. Sometimes you can feel contaminated by knowing something.'
'But once you mentioned it, I had to know. It's hard not to think about it. It can't be so bad.'
I felt a chilliness on my skin, like I'd once felt cold while suffering from a fever.
'He said…' I drew a deep breath and said it in a rush. 'He said he was thinking how he had come in my mouth. I felt – well, I left the room and threw up. So now you know. Now you know the truth.'
'Jesus,' he said. There was a silence, and I waited. 'Did you tell anybody?'
'I'm telling you.'
'I mean, why didn't you tell someone? They'd have thrown him straight out.'
'Would they? I don't know. He might have denied it. He might have said I'd misheard. He'd have thought of something. In any case, I couldn't think clearly. I felt like I'd been punched in the face and the stomach simultaneously. So was that worse than anything you'd imagined?'
'I don't know,' he said, and then we didn't speak. I didn't fall asleep straight away, though, and I'm not sure if he did. I murmured something to him, but he didn't reply and there was just the sound of regular breathing. So I just lay there beside him looking at the lights outside, the car headlights sweeping across the ceiling.
When my mother walked into the bar, I suddenly realized that it wasn't just Kerry who had changed. She looked lovely and somehow younger than I was used to thinking of her. Her hair was brushed up on to the top of her head and she was wearing a belted mac that swished as she walked, dangling earrings, dark red lipstick. She smiled, raised a gloved hand as she crossed the room. When she bent to kiss me, I smelt perfume, face powder. Out of the blue, I remembered an episode from my childhood. We had gone for a bike ride and I had struggled along way behind the others. I had tried as hard as I possibly could, but they drew further and further away from me. They would wait and I would catch up slowly, and then they would leave me behind again as I pedalled stolidly through tears of rage and exhaustion. At the end of the ride, my father finally took a look at my bike and saw that there was a problem with the brake and it had been jammed down against one of the wheels for the entire journey. Maybe it's too convenient a metaphor for times when things just seem too hard: pedalling 'with the brake on. Now I wondered if my mother had spent years with the brakes on and that now, with Kerry in love, she was released and pedalling free.
'I've got a bottle of white for us,' I said.
'I really shouldn't,' she said, which in mother-speak meant thank you very much.
'Don't worry,' I said. 'There's a special deal here. You order two glasses and they give you the bottle. You know that I can never resist a bargain like that.'
I filled her glass and she clinked it against mine, inevitably toasting Kerry and Brendan. I tried not to mind; tried to banish inside me the five-year-old Miranda who wanted to be toasted and made a fuss of.
'Kerry's told me about your help with the flat-hunting and letting them stay and everything,' she said. 'I know she's not good at expressing her gratitude. She's probably embarrassed. But it means so much to her. And to me as well.'
'It was really nothing,' I said.
'I feel so happy about Kerry that I can hardly bear it. I keep my fingers crossed all the time. And I wake at night and just pray and pray that it will be all right.'
'Why shouldn't it?' I asked.
'It seems too good to be true,' my mother said. 'As if someone's waved a wand over her life.'
'It's not a fairy tale. He's not a knight in shining armour,' I said.
'I know, I know. But I have always thought with Kerry that all she needed was self-confidence and then she could do whatever she wanted. That's what Brendan's given her.'
'It's scary, isn't it,' I said, swirling my amber wine around in its glass. 'All the different things happiness depends on. You want it to be less fragile than that.'
'Well, I never thought that way about you,' said my mother. 'Whatever the ups and downs, I knew you'd be all right.'
'Oh,' I said dully. Somehow that didn't make me feel cheerful.
'It's just Troy now,' said my mother. 'But I can't help feeling it's going to be OK now. Like we're getting into a virtuous circle.' She tipped the last of her wine down her throat and I poured her another glass. She waited until I was done, then took a breath and said: 'Talking of Kerry and Troy, it seemed like a good moment to talk about things that your father and I have never discussed properly with you.'
'What things?' I asked as I was suddenly filled with a creepy, ominous feeling.
She took one of the little paper napkins that came with the wine and started twisting it and folding it as if she were going to make a paper aeroplane.
'Obviously, we all know that Troy is wonderful, but he's always going to need financial help. You know that we have been paying money into a trust fund for him.'
'He may get a job,' I said dubiously. 'It's a matter of finding the right area.'
'I hope so, Miranda, I hope so. But that's not our immediate problem. Now Kerry and Brendan will be getting married in two months' time, and it's going to be a very modest ceremony. But the two of them will be as poor as church mice for a while. Derek has talked with Brendan and he's very impressed with him. He has a large number of plans. All sorts of plans. But for the moment they will need help with their flat and other things. We have our own property problems, as you know, but still, we want to help them as much as we can. We are going to help them with buying the flat, in a small way.'
'I'm glad,' I said. 'But why are you telling me?'
'You're doing so well,' said my mother, squeezing my hand. 'You always have done. I sometimes think it's hard for you to realize how difficult it has been for Troy and Kerry.'
'I'm a jobbing decorator,' I said. 'I'm not a stockbroker.'
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My mother shook her head.
'You're doing wonderfully. I've been talking with Bill. He thinks the world of you.'
'I wish he'd pay me more, then.'
'That will come, Miranda. The sky's the limit for you.'
'So what are you saying?'
'You're so generous, Miranda, and I know you won't give this a second thought, the way some people would. It just seems clear to your father and me that Troy and Kerry need, will always need, help in a way that you won't.'
'So what are you saying?' I repeated. I knew what she was saying.
'All I'm saying is that we're allocating special resources to Troy and Kerry, and I hope that you agree with us about the need for that.'
What she meant – of course – is that she was taking money from the slice of the family pie that was notionally in some sort of way allocated to me and giving it to Troy and Kerry. What could I say? No? Don't help my brother and sister? There was a little dormouse-sized Miranda in a corner of my brain giving a howl of rage and misery, but I put a metaphorical gag in her mouth.
I wanted to cry. It wasn't the money, or I don't think it was. It was the emotions behind the money. We never grow up enough not to need our parents looking after us, taking care of us. I smiled broadly. 'Sure,' I said.
'I knew you would,' my mother said fervently.
'I guess I'll need to find a rich husband,' I said, still smiling.
'You'll find whatever you want,' said my mother.
CHAPTER 10
They arrived before I was expecting them, so I was still in my dressing gown, drinking coffee and eating a custard pie that I'd bought a few days ago on my way back from work. It wasn't a very healthy breakfast, but the crust was already a bit stale and if I didn't eat it now I would have to throw it away. Anyway, I'd been running. I'd puffed my way through five miles on the Heath on a glorious late October morning, sharply cold, but bright too, with soggy brown leaves underfoot. The run, all that pain, balanced out the custard pie. I had planned to paint my toenails, clear the living room a bit and ring up Nick to arrange to meet him for lunch. That way, I could welcome them and then have an excuse to rush off.
