by K. L. Slater
‘This place is killing me!’ She leans back against the wall and closes her eyes. ‘Can’t you just move to a nice little house closer to us with no bloody stairs to climb? You might as well have no lift here, the number of times it’s out of order.’
I don’t answer her; I just close the door again and lock it. I don’t think she told me I was looking after Archie tonight, though I can’t remember. So I say nothing.
‘I’m not staying,’ she says. ‘I’ve got to…’ She stops and stares at me. ‘You look awful.’
‘I feel awful,’ I say.
‘What’s wrong?’
I’ve no intention of telling her about James; how it was the girl upstairs he was interested in. I know she’d barely be able to hide her glee at my embarrassment.
‘I’m just having a bad day. Probably coming down with something.’
Her eyes immediately glaze over.
‘I hope it’s OK to leave Archie. Darren’s working late and I’ve got an appointment… a meeting.’
Which is it? I feel like asking, but I don’t. The last thing I need is an argument with Louise; that would just about finish me off today.
Instead I turn my attention to Archie. He looks pale and slightly troubled.
‘You OK, Archie?’ I smile at him.
‘Of course he’s all right,’ Louise snaps. ‘Go in the living room, Archie, put the TV on or something.’
He glances at me, but shuffles slowly to the door.
I look at Louise, about to quiz her on Archie’s demeanour, and realise that she too looks a bit distracted.
‘I’m dying for the loo,’ she says. ‘I’ll go before I leave if that’s OK.’
I watch her walk by me and disappear into the bathroom. All the way there, she never takes her eyes from her phone.
I don’t know why I do it. I certainly haven’t planned it, but when I see her handbag sitting there on the worktop, gaping open, I peer inside.
There’s a silk scarf folded on the top and I push it aside gently to reveal her purse, a small mesh pouch containing items of make-up, and a hairbrush. I’m about to pull the scarf back in place when I feel something hard underneath my fingers.
I lift the scarf and spot something made of glass at the bottom of the bag. When I move her purse slightly, I see exactly what it is.
A small bottle of vodka that looks to be half empty.
CHAPTER FIFTY
I hear the loo flush and make sure the scarf is undisturbed and in place before moving to the other side of the kitchen.
‘How’s the new job going?’ I ask.
Louise looks up from her phone, surprised, as if she’d forgotten about her promotion.
‘It’s good, thanks, most of the time anyway.’ She puts the phone down and sighs. ‘Look, I know I’m always in a crazy rush, but I just want to say that I’m very grateful, you know. For how you’re helping out with Archie.’
‘That’s OK,’ I say, sensing an opportunity. ‘I know you’re a big tough businesswoman now, but you’re still my sister. I worry about you, trying to be everything to everyone.’
To my horror, her eyes immediately fill and then overspill.
‘Sorry!’ She sniffs. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
‘Come on, sit down. Just for two minutes.’
I’d like to ask her about the vodka in her bag and whether it’s helping her cope. I’d like to tell her about my awful mistake in thinking James was ever interested in me, and about the horrible note someone pushed under the door just before she arrived. I’d like to tell her about seeing Archie’s teacher and about Darren’s concerns too, but I haven’t got my own head around any of it yet. So I know it’s best to say nothing.
She sits on the stool next to me and takes the tissue I hand her. ‘Thanks,’ she says, blowing her nose.
‘This is not like you, Louise. What’s wrong?’
Usually when I ask about how she’s feeling, she jumps into defence or attack mode, but today, she just sighs hopelessly, shakes her head and pushes around a toast crumb on the worktop that my cloth must have missed this morning.
‘I’m dealing with a lot of… stuff at the moment,’ she says in a guarded tone. ‘I can’t talk about it. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but it’s just relationship stuff, you know?’
I feel the hairs on my forearms prickle as I remember Darren’s suspicions that there might be someone else on the scene.
‘Relationships are hard,’ I say. ‘But I know Darren really loves you, so whatever the problem is, I’m sure you can overcome it together.’
‘Oh, Alice. There you go, off in your ideal little world again.’
I don’t feel like taking one of her put-down lines today.
‘I know what you think about me, Louise, but you have no idea what my life is really like. I can assure you it’s far from ideal at the moment, whatever it seems like to you.’
‘Touché.’ She shrugs. ‘I suppose we all make assumptions about other people. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘I know, but I wish you’d try not to voice your incorrect assumptions in front of other people.’
‘Like who?’ She bristles.
‘I’m just saying, kids hear more than you think. I don’t want Archie thinking I’m weird or something.’
She frowns. ‘Why, what’s he been saying?’
‘Nothing,’ I mumble. I forgot that Archie asked me not to say anything. ‘I just used that as an example.’
She folds her arms and bites her lip and I need to say something to get her off the subject.
‘Are you and Darren… OK?’
‘That’s not an easy question to answer in one word.’ She looks at me steadily. ‘You like Darren, don’t you? You think he’s a good man?’
It feels like a trap, but I’m going to answer honestly.
‘Yes, it’s fair to say I like him a lot. He seems to really love you and he treats Archie like his own son.’
‘That’s what I thought. And that tells me I’m right not to talk to you about my problems.’
I know what she’s getting at. She doesn’t want to tell me that she’s having an affair because I have a good opinion of Darren.
‘Look, Louise. I’m not married to Darren, so I can’t judge you, no matter what’s happening in your life.’
I can’t say fairer than that and I ought to try and remain impartial, although that’s difficult when I saw how worried Darren is about both Louise and Archie. My sister, on the other hand, seems to only be interested in thinking through her own problems, one of which is very likely her involvement with another man.
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’ She gives a bitter laugh. ‘You just look at me and think I have it all.’
She’s way off target. I can see she’s unhappy, and if she’s seriously so deluded that she thinks I haven’t noticed the recent changes in her – as Darren obviously has too, enough to ask what I think – then this is my chance to tell her.
‘It’s none of my business what’s happening in your life,’ I say carefully. ‘But I can’t deny I’m concerned about some of the signs I’m seeing.’
‘What signs?’ She sees me hesitate. ‘Tell me, Alice.’
‘You seem to be on a far shorter fuse than you used to be. You’re often tight as a drum when you call here, and woe betide anyone – usually me or Archie – who says the wrong thing, because we’ll get our heads bitten off.’
She looks down and doesn’t say anything.
‘I know I’ve never been as worldly-wise as you, Louise, but even I think it’s unusual that you have early and late meetings most days.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘Just that.’ I’m not going to let her set me up to accuse her of having an affair so she can tear a hole in me.
‘It’s really important you don’t mention my meetings schedule to Darren, Louise,’ she says firmly. ‘He wouldn’t understand.’
I bet he wouldn�
��t, but I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that.
‘Surely Darren notices you’re out of the house an awful lot. Does he have anything to say about it?’
‘Are you serious? He’s out more than I am. That’s part of the problem.’
‘Someone’s got to pay for that fancy house and two cars, Louise,’ I say, and before I even finish speaking, I see her shut down. Her temper muscle, as I used to call it when we were kids, flexes in her jaw.
‘I’ll say goodbye to Archie and get off then,’ she says shortly.
With sadness, I watch her stomp out of the kitchen, unable or unwilling to take any responsibility for her own unhappiness.
Early in their marriage, it was always Louise who pushed for a better house in a better area. Darren was happy in their perfectly reasonable semi in Wilford until she started lusting after an address in an expensive suburb.
He left his job as a Nottingham-based salesman and went for more responsibility with a national company. And with that came the travelling, so to complain about his absence now seems a bit unfair.
I love my sister and my nephew and care about my brother-in-law too. I want them all to be happy, but that looks increasingly unlikely.
From where I’m standing, there’s only one person who can’t see the damage she’s causing by refusing to acknowledge what’s so obvious to everyone else.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
LOUISE
Three years earlier
The day Mum had her heart attack, Louise had had a big row with Darren about money. That was when his threats had started: to leave her, take Archie with him.
Since her split with Martyn and before meeting Darren, Louise had struggled to bring Archie up on one wage. Yes, her mum and Alice occasionally helped out buying him an outfit or a toy he wanted, but neither of them really understood how tough she was finding it on both a financial and an emotional level.
She knew this was due mainly to the fact that she clamped her coping mask firmly to her face before she left the house each day. Nobody would guess she spent her evenings crying and drowning her sorrows in cheap wine as many nights as her budget would allow.
Lily and Alice were close. There was just something about letting them know she was struggling that made Louise recoil inside. She simply didn’t want them to find out.
Alice thought she was the one who had a tough life. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so annoying.
She’d done some lame and largely useless art degree and then spent a few months pretending she was a real artist, producing what looked like bad Monet copies from the convenience of the spare bedroom.
She earned nothing, of course, relying on Lily’s generosity to feed her and provide a roof over her head.
Despite what their probable opinion of her was, Louise wasn’t stupid. She knew Lily must be giving Alice cash to buy clothes and art materials. You didn’t have to be Hercule Poirot to see what must be happening behind the scenes.
Yet Alice still found plenty to complain about. The lack of gallery space for local artists, the bus being late two days in a row when she went into town, and how difficult it was to get a decent job.
Louise’s heart bled for her. Not.
If Alice had only half of Louise’s problems – feeding and clothing her growing son, realising another year would pass without a break of any kind and passed over for promotion yet again at work – then she’d really have something to complain about.
Currently, Louise felt as though she was clawing her way out of a very deep hole from scratch each and every day.
So when Alice had landed her dream job, it felt like the last straw to Louise. She’d made an attempt to try and get her sister to understand how easy it had all been. She’d be working on the doorstep at some fancy gallery – no two-hour round trip for her – doing a job she loved. Predictably, Alice wouldn’t entertain the idea that she’d been offered the job on a plate.
When her mum boasted to Louise that Alice was being promoted, despite a mere few months of experience on the job, Louise hadn’t been the least bit surprised.
‘You could ask her for a few tips in your own career,’ her mother had suggested. ‘You’ve been there years now with hardly any pay rise.’
And now she and Darren had big money problems that he was looking to her to solve.
Her head was full of it, full of worry and stress, and when Darren called to tell her that he’d found her mother on the floor, barely breathing, she couldn’t take it a moment longer.
She called Alice and demanded she come home to deal with the situation.
Her mother had always made wisecracks about Louise’s career; well, now she had an important meeting to go to and she was going to put it first. See how Lily liked that.
Darren had encouraged her.
‘Tell Alice she has to come,’ he insisted. ‘Your mother has never cared about you, Lou. If she kicks the bucket, maybe this is finally our chance to get some money and solve our problems.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
ALICE
I’m just closing the door behind Louise when a foot appears, preventing me from shutting it.
I shriek and try to slam it.
‘Oww! Alice, please… I just want to make sure you’re OK!’
I peer through the gap to see Jenny hopping around on one leg.
‘Sorry,’ I say quickly, opening the door. ‘I didn’t mean to… I thought it was…’
‘Look, can I just come in for a minute?’ She looks nervously up and down the corridor. ‘You know how nosy people are around here.’
I don’t want her to come in, but I have no choice unless I want to be rude.
‘I haven’t got long,’ I sigh, standing aside. ‘I’m looking after my young nephew.’
I can hear the television blaring in the other room, louder than I usually allow it. But today, it suits my purpose that Archie is distracted.
Jenny steps inside, looking around her with interest as I did in her flat earlier.
‘Come into the kitchen,’ I say.
‘It’s so weird being in a mirror image of your own place,’ she says.
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ I say. ‘I must have had some kind of stomach bug. I knew I was going to throw up and I just had to get out.’
‘You could’ve used my bathroom,’ she says. ‘You didn’t have to dash all the way back down here.’
Being sick sucks at any time, but it’s even worse if it’s not your own loo. And part of my excuse is the truth: I did feel very sick indeed.
‘It was just instinct.’
‘I came down straight away to see if you were all right. I banged on your door for ages.’
‘I know, but I couldn’t face anyone. I couldn’t get up off the floor for ages.’
She looks at me and I meet her eyes. ‘So long as it was nothing I did… or said,’ she says slowly.
I can feel my heartbeat getting faster. There are some questions I really need to ask her, and I might not get a better chance than this.
I open my mouth to speak just as Jenny jumps off her chair and gasps. The kitchen door flies wide open and Archie stands there, blood streaming down his face.
‘I’m sorry, Auntie Alice,’ he whimpers as drops of blood spatter the kitchen floor. Then he sees Jenny and starts backing out of the room.
‘Archie, it’s fine, come here.’ I grab a couple of sheets of paper towel and rush over to him. ‘What on earth has happened?’
‘It looks like a nosebleed,’ Jenny says from behind me. ‘I used to have them regularly as a kid.’
I’m dabbing Archie’s face, but Jenny takes the tissue from me and holds it to his nose. Archie recoils, but Jenny isn’t fazed.
‘Like this,’ she says, pinching the flesh of Archie’s nostrils together. ‘That’s not too tight, is it, pet?’
Archie frowns and looks at me imploringly. ‘I can do it myself,’ he says curtly.
‘You need to stem the flow of blood,’ Jenny explains. ‘It
won’t take long.’
We help Archie onto a stool. Jenny carries on administering her pinching method and I get some fresh paper towels.
‘As far as I know, he’s never had a nosebleed before,’ I tell her. ‘I’m going to have to call my sister.’
Archie starts blinking fast and I wonder if he’s already worrying he’ll be in trouble.
‘It can’t be helped, Archie,’ I tell him. ‘Your mum will be annoyed if I don’t let her know.’
‘She said it would be all right,’ he says in a small voice.
‘She said what would be all right?’
‘When I hurt my head and got a nosebleed last night. She said I’m not to tell my teacher.’
I look at Jenny’s shocked face and I feel both embarrassed and outraged at the idiocy of my sister. What on earth was she thinking?
I’m desperate to ask Archie what happened, but I’m concerned that Jenny, whom I barely know, has seen and heard enough.
‘I can take over now, Jenny.’ My hand hovers above her fingers, which are still pincered firmly onto Archie’s nose. ‘No need for you to hang around; we can catch up another time.’
‘It’s fine,’ she says, leaving her fingers in place. ‘I’ll stay at least until the blood flow has stopped. Does your head hurt now, petal? How did it happen?’
Archie looks at her and back at me. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but decides against it.
Jenny told me she used to work in a nursery, and she sounds like a concerned teacher right now, questioning Archie.
My head and face heat up as panic flutters in my chest. I’m torn between protecting my sister against an unfair assumption, and growing concern for Archie’s well-being.
I need to know what happened last night, but it’s fairly obvious Archie is not comfortable talking in front of a stranger, and neither am I, come to that.
If Louise has a drinking problem and has been neglecting Archie in some way, then I don’t want it revealed in front of Jenny.
‘Best not to question him while he’s upset,’ I say curtly.
