by Beth Miller
Danny is gathering everyone in the main living room. I go in hesitantly, keeping an eye out for enemies. Evie sidles up to me and takes my hand. I am so grateful, I give her a massive kiss on the cheek, which she wipes off.
‘Mum, you smell of drink.’
‘Someone spilled their wine on me, the idiot.’
Andrea pushes past without noticing me. She’s dragging along a thin silver-haired man who must be the saintly Morris. Evie waves to Micah, who is at the front of the room. He waves back, and Andrea turns to see who he’s signalling to. The look of horror on her face when she realises it’s my daughter makes the rest of this terrible evening worthwhile.
Amy and two of her friends squeeze round with trays of the champagne Danny and I bought yesterday. I grab two glasses and give one to Evie. The excitement of this stops her noticing how quickly I drink mine. Oops, forgot to wait for the toasts.
The room fills up, and Evie and I are trapped in the middle of the room. I look towards the door to work out an escape route, and at that moment Miffy comes in. Danny and Heifer call her to the front and she has to start making her way through the crowd. When she passes near us I see her face is shuttered and say, ‘You okay, Miff?’
She shakes her head: no. For a moment she looks very young, like her childhood self. Then she is moving forward to take her place as chief aunt and party organiser at the front of the room.
Danny, commanding and handsome, makes a sweet speech about his oldest son being barmitzvahed. Everyone says, ‘Ahhh!’ Heifer, surrounded by children, grins smugly and is the first to start clapping. Then Micah says a few words, some of which I imagine give Evie a thrill, as he describes the party as ‘the best night of my life’.
Miffy thanks everyone for coming and for welcoming her home so fulsomely. Finally, brother and sister stand together and link hands. Miffy says, ‘It’s also a sad occasion tonight as we remember our father, Michael, who died less than a month ago.’
Evie strokes my arm, which makes me feel teary. I concentrate on staring at Andrea Cline, who is fumbling ostentatiously with a tissue.
‘He would have loved this party so much. He felt it would be a chance to bring us all together, and it is. We’re so glad Michael’s grandchildren are all here.’ Miffy names all Danny’s kids. Then she looks across at me and adds, ‘And his granddaughter Evie.’ A sea of faces turn to smile in our direction. ‘With Laura, his stepdaughter.’
Andrea gives me such a filthy look I almost miss the next thing Miffy says. ‘Michael, wherever you are, I hope you’re glad we’re all here tonight, finally together in one room, to celebrate your oldest grandchild becoming a man.’
It feels odd that Mama is absent from the speeches, her long marriage to Michael airbrushed out. But now people are clapping, and Miffy is enjoining us to keep drinking and make merry; people are moving, talking, laughing, refreshing glasses. Evie walks towards Micah, who I now see is tall and strong. He easily sweeps her up off the floor into a hug. Is that allowed? I glance at Heifer but she’s not looking, so I scan the room for Danny, who’s almost disappeared in a press of people, and he follows my gaze, shakes his head very slightly.
Miffy goes past, her face pale and drawn. Before I can reach out to her, she is swept into an embrace by her old school-friend Sasha, a slim woman in a sparkly dress too young for her. When I get to the hall I see them going upstairs, Sasha’s face bent towards Miffy. I feel a pang of something like homesickness.
This isn’t a good moment for Orange Pervert to sway over to me. Before he can say anything I snap, ‘Touch me again and I’m calling the cops.’ I don’t know why I go all American; it just comes out.
‘Jesus! You’d have to pay me, you fat bitch.’ He turns and disappears into the crowds. What a night I’m having.
Danny appears, wearing his coat. He smiles at me and says, ‘Just taking some of the older relatives back to their hotel.’
A voice bangs in my head, saying, Leave him alone, for God’s sake, just leave him alone.
I always ignore those sorts of voices.
‘I’ll come along. I could use a change of scene.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
‘Maybe not. But I’m coming anyway.’
Three elderly people arrive in the hall. ‘Ready, Danny-boy?’ one asks, and we go outside. When we reach the car, a woman says, ‘Who’s this?’
‘Oh, hello. I’m Laura. Danny kindly said he’d give me a lift too.’
‘To Eastbourne?’ an old guy says, and I improvise hastily, ‘Oh, just a bit further.’
Danny leaves me floundering as they question me. Is it Pevensey? Bexhill? Hastings? I choose Bexhill as it sounds quite nice. We climb into Danny’s huge Volvo, me in the back with two old ladies who introduce themselves as Aunt Faye and Aunt Shirley. Uncle Kenny sits in the front with Danny. Soon as we set off I remember what Miffy said about Danny’s terrible driving. I seem to be the only one who notices. For most of the journey I cling to my seat in terror, occasionally closing my eyes, feeling like I’m going to be sick, as he mounts the kerb, runs red lights, goes through 30-mph zones at what feels like 60 mph. Meanwhile the old people chatter on about the trouble Melissa went to with the party, the lovely cooking, the beautiful house, how handsome Micah looked.
Aunt Faye says, ‘Fascinating to see Andrea welling up during the speeches. Obviously still has a soft spot for your father, no matter what she says.’
Danny says, ‘Naturally she was upset.’
Faye says, ‘Thank God Melissa didn’t go completely doo-lally and invite that shiksa he married. Bad enough asking that woman’s daughter.’
I sit very still.
‘Um, Aunt Faye,’ Danny says. ‘Laura, sitting next to you, is Olivia’s daughter.’
‘The shiksa’s daughter,’ I confirm, turning towards Faye. Luckily it’s dark. I’d hate to see her face.
Aunt Faye gives a little laugh. ‘Oh dearie me, I had no idea.’
No one says anything for the rest of the journey. Danny puts on a CD of Yiddish songs, which seems to make his driving a little slower, thank Christ. We all listen to the music. It’s awful.
At last we pull up in front of a huge hotel on the seafront. There are coaches out front and grey-haired people milling about. The two women get out of the car with muttered goodbyes, but Uncle Kenny leans his head into the back and says to me, ‘Congratulations: you’re the first person who’s ever shut Faye up.’
Danny sees them into the lobby, and I climb into the front passenger seat. He’s gone quite a while.
Danny: Sorry I took so long. Faye couldn’t stop apologising.
Laura: That was kind of awkward.
Danny: I’m so sorry.
Laura: She didn’t say anything untrue. Mama is a shiksa, and I am her daughter.
Danny (leaning over to kiss her): A shiksa I’ve never stopped thinking about.
I jump as Danny slides into his seat, slamming the door.
‘Hi. It took a while to see them all in,’ he says, almost exactly like the dialogue in my head.
I say, ‘That was kind of awkward.’
‘I’m really sorry. Thanks for not being rude back.’
‘She didn’t say anything untrue. Mama is a shiksa, and I am her daughter.’ It’s like being in a film.
‘Shiksa is not a nice word. I feel bad about it. I’m so sorry.’
He turns the key in the ignition. Then, unexpectedly, he giggles. It makes me jump; it’s such a strange sound, so at odds with his usual demeanour.
‘What’s funny?’
‘I don’t know. Just, Aunt Faye. She’s such a motormouth. You being so dignified. And something about how naughty a word shiksa was when I was young. It symbolised everything we weren’t allowed to have.’
He eases the car into the traffic, and I just go for it. Blame it on the wine, or on Danny’s sympathy towards me over Aunt Faye.
Blame it on Heifer saying, ‘I just want you to know that I trust Dan-Dan completely.
’
Blame it on Huw doing who knows what with blonde professors.
Blame it on Miffy telling me, ‘Say what you want.’
Blame it on the boogie.
I say, ‘But you did have it, for a little while.’
‘Oh, Laura.’ My name is one long sigh.
‘You could have it again, too, if you wanted.’
‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.’
‘When we kissed, you did want it. Pointless to deny it.’
‘Laura. You’re pushing me to say something I’d rather not say.’
‘Oh, why don’t you just say it, Danny?’ I try to make it sexy.
He stares straight ahead at the road, looking gorgeous and determined.
‘Just because I have, ah, a certain response, if you know what I mean …’ A hand gestures at his crotch. ‘It doesn’t mean what you think.’
‘Uh huh?’
‘I admit it, I am really turned on’ – he stops and then continues in a deeper voice – ‘really turned on by the thought of what we did when we were kids. But it doesn’t mean I want to do anything now.’
I don’t say anything.
‘I shouldn’t have to point this out, but not only are we both married, you’re also my stepsister. Had you forgotten that?’
‘No.’ Yes. Sort of. Who cares?
He almost runs into the back of a blue Fiat, swerves to overtake it only at the last minute. Christ, we’re going to crash and be together for ever in eternity. I look at him, rather than the road. Better I don’t know what’s going on out there.
‘Laura, forgiveness is a mitzvah. I really have done my best to forgive you for everything that happened when we were kids. I’m sorry Lissa and I kept away from you for so long.’ His voice drops. ‘You seemed so sure of yourself, but I realise now that, of course, you were just a kid yourself.’
We’re now on the fast road that takes us back to the party. At least, it’s fast when Danny drives on it.
‘It’s good to get it said. I’ve hated having these bad feelings. I hope we can start afresh, move forward as brother and sister. Evie and my kids as cousins. Dad so wanted that to happen. Do you think we can?’
I want to grab him. Slap him. Kiss him. ‘I don’t know, Danny. I think you still have feelings for me. You even admit I turn you on. All this brother and sister stuff: I think it’s bullshit.’
Danny pulls over abruptly, screeching to a halt in a bus lane. He leaves the engine running, and stares ahead, hands on the steering wheel, his arms straight and taut. He says slowly, not looking at me, ‘Do you want to leave Huw?’
‘I think he’s having an affair with a blonde professor, a very clever PhD-type of person.’
‘That’s terrible, Laura. I’m so sorry to hear that. But it doesn’t change how I feel.’
‘It changes how I feel, though.’
‘Do you want me to leave Hella?’
Well, yes, obviously. The only puzzle is why he hasn’t already. I say nothing.
‘Or do you just want to have an affair? Like Huw?’
Yes, of course I want to have an affair. Perfect scenario. Huw gets it out of his system with Bardot; I get it out of mine with Danny. Then Huw and I come back together, stronger than before. Us and Evie and the baby. So, yes, Danny, I want to fuck your brains out. I want to see if it’s as brilliant as I remember. But the way he says, ‘Do you just want to have an affair?’ makes it sound as if he’s saying, ‘Do you just want to have a bath in shit?’
The silence goes on and on. I can hear my own breathing. Then he laughs. I can hardly believe I’m hearing that sound again.
‘Chip off the old block, aren’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Laura. You’re having Huw’s baby in a few months. You’ve got Evie. I’ve got six children …’
Is it really only six?
‘… and we want to have more.’
I touch his arm, but he pushes me away. Turns, and almost shouts in my face. ‘Do you really want to fuck everything up for all those kids? Like things were fucked up for Miffy and me?’
He whacks the steering wheel with his palm, then takes a deep breath, moves into first gear, and we drive back to the party without another word.
16 MARCH 2003
If there’s a better hangover cure than singing along to ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice,’ I’ve yet to find it. If only Evie felt the same way. ‘Mum! Will you please. Just. Turn. It. Off!’
I raise my voice a bit louder, and put my foot down harder, as we reach the chorus and a clear stretch of road at the same time. ‘Mum, you’re doing my head in.’
‘So, Evie,’ Miffy says. She switches off my compilation tape and dangles her cigarette out of the window. ‘You had a good time last night, honey?’
‘It was brilliant, Auntie Lissa.’
Auntie Lissa now, is it?
‘You seemed to be getting on well with Micah,’ Miffy says, and Evie giggles soppily.
I overtake some slow bastard in a Vauxhall Cavalier and glance at my daughter in the mirror. ‘Well, Evie, think about the girls he’s seen till now. Covered head-to-toe in polo necks and woolly tights. You must have seemed a mirage.’
‘Shut up, Mum.’
‘Actually, now I come to think of it, you’re sort of related to Micah. Isn’t she, Miffy? Some kind of step-cousin.’
‘I’m listening to my music now.’ Evie plugs herself into her new iPod.
Miffy expels a blast of smoke out of the window. ‘Not feeling too great today, Laura?’
‘Just a bit.’ I ache all over. My head throbs, my back hurts, and my stomach’s not feeling too clever, either.
‘Me too. God, I’m wrecked.’ She gives a massive yawn. ‘I barely slept last night.’ She settles down into her seat and closes her eyes.
Maybe you’re wondering why she’s in my car? It was her idea. She knocked on my door at nine this morning, looking like hell: eyes red, hair wild. ‘Laura, feel free to say no, but any chance I could come to Wales with you and Evie? I could really do with getting away for a few days.’
‘Oh, that’d be lovely!’ I was surprised, but thrilled.
‘I can’t face going back to my mum’s, and I don’t have my own place yet.’
‘You’re a homeless hobo. You’re going to have to start selling the Big Issue.’
She laughed. ‘Thanks so much, Laura, I really appreciate it. Danny offered but they’re so crowded. Amy’s going back to her flat, and Sasha’s got her sister staying.’
So I wasn’t exactly first choice, then. But still, it’s a brilliant chance to spend more time with her. Reconnect.
I managed to get Evie and myself out of the house without seeing Danny. Or Heifer. Or Andrea. Or Orange Shirt Man. Wow, I made so many friends last night. And so now, here we are – me, Evie and Miffy – on our way to North Wales. I put my foot down and stay in the outside lane, flashing past all the slowcoaches. I’m in a trance when Miffy says, ‘Christ, you’re driving like Danny,’ making me jump.
‘Thought you were asleep.’ I cross into the middle lane and slow to 80 mph.
‘Power nap. So,’ Miffy says, ‘how was your evening?’
‘You first. I’m desperate to know what happened with the gorgeous Rob.’
She lights another cigarette and winds down the window. ‘Nothing. He got back together with his wife, and she’s pregnant.’
I glance across at her. She’s wearing a little flowery skirt, her long brown legs stretched out, perfect other than the faded scar on the calf, her bare feet with their painted silver nails resting on the dash. It’s hard to feel too sorry for her.
‘Right guy, wrong time. Fucking babies. Sorry. So. What about your night, Laura?’
‘Your mum was pretty weird with me.’
‘Oh dear, she’d had too much to drink. She’s not used to it at all.’
‘And I had a horrible encounter with some fat bloke. Orange shirt?’
‘Oh no, not Simon! He’s
a total creep, married to my cousin Alisa, the poor woman. I’m sorry, my family have given you a rotten time.’
‘Also, I think Danny kind of hates me.’
‘He was saying after the shiva how nice it was to see you again. I’m sure he doesn’t hate you any more.’
Any more? I brake as the car in front slows down.
‘Seeing you again was quite a milestone for him. You were such a significant person in our lives. He was probably just anxious.’
I look in the mirror. I can’t hear any music coming from Evie’s iPod, but her eyes are closed. I think she’s asleep. She went to bed very late last night. ‘I was wondering,’ I say, lightly, ‘if I broke Danny’s heart back then.’
‘Ach.’ Miffy lapses into Irish brogue. ‘But didn’t we all get our hearts broken at that age, to be sure?’ She takes a deep sunken-cheeks drag on her cigarette.
As we’re doing accents, I put on my Greta Garbo, which Miffy used to like. ‘You know, darlink, sometimes I seenk my heart it stay broken all zese years.’
There’s a catch in my voice that’s not put on, and I feel Miffy staring at me.
‘Oh my God. You still fancy him!’
‘This traffic’s bloody appalling. Look at that twat.’
‘It’s so romantic. You saw Danny for the first time in a million years and fell in love with him all over again – him all frum and untouchable.’ She starts singing the theme to Love Story.
‘Don’t, please. It wasn’t funny last night at all.’
‘Sorry. So, go on. You told him you loved him, and said, “How about it?”’
I don’t reply, and she starts laughing again. ‘Oh God. You didn’t! I can just about imagine how that might have gone. My poor Laura-sister.’
It’s the first time she’s used my childhood nickname. Despite her teasing, it makes me feel warm. Closer to her.
‘He did maybe act a bit surprised.’
‘Well, honey.’ She sounds like she’s going to laugh. ‘Didn’t you notice that he’s sort of married, and, well, so are you?’
‘You should remind Huw of that.’
