by Shari Low
Her cheeks had burned with the irony of that statement. She hadn’t wanted to take his name, yet she’d somehow gone on to surrender her whole life to him and their children.
‘I like that,’ he’d said, leaning forward, as if he was genuinely interested. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Zoe did the same. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who depends on people less than she does. She’s like some kind of laser-focussed force of nature. And a complete workaholic. I think I spend more time with Verity than I do with Zoe. Not that I’m complaining… she’s worth the wait.’
The lurch of jealousy was so strong, it took Marina a moment to process it. It wasn’t jealousy that Zoe had this man, it was jealousy that he spoke about her with such obvious admiration. When was the last time Graham had said that she mattered? That he noticed what she did?
‘But, anyway, back to you. Zoe said you went to uni. What did you study?’
That had started a conversation that didn’t stop, except for a few moments when their main courses were being delivered, or their wine glasses topped up, or they were asking for another bottle. And very little of it was about Zoe, or Verity, or anything other than the two people sitting at the table. The moon was high in the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows by the time they’d finished their coffees (Irish, potent and thick with cream).
Marina had had a thought that made her smile without even realising she was doing it.
‘What are you grinning at?’ Ned had asked her, amused.
At the beginning of the evening, almost two bottles of wine ago, she’d have been embarrassed to say, but sod it. ‘I was thinking that we were pretending to enjoy ourselves in the photos earlier, but I’ve genuinely had a lovely time.’
The neck of his shirt was open now and it was obvious he was completely relaxed, his long fingers slowly twirling round the spoon from his coffee. ‘Me too. I can’t believe the time has passed so quickly. Feels like it’s too soon to call it a night.’
His stare was locked on her now, the reflection of the candle on the table making his jaw look even sharper, his teeth even whiter, eyes even darker. Dangerous, even.
Marina wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Reality check. This was her sister’s boyfriend. He was being friendly. Getting to know his girlfriend’s family. This was a school raffle prize, for crying out loud. And yet…
Was it her imagination or was he looking at her in a way that wasn’t covered by any of those categories?
‘There’s bound to be a nightclub open somewhere,’ he’d suggested, still slowly, expertly, twirling that damn spoon.
That was the moment – choose quit or go. Call it a night or take another step towards something she wasn’t sure she understood. What the hell was wrong with her? This wasn’t some stranger in a bar, or some French tourist that she would never see again. This was Ned. Verity’s friend. Zoe’s boyfriend. And she wasn’t even completely sure what was happening here. Was he coming on to her? Or had those hook-ups with the other guys turned her into some sex-crazed idiot who now thought every passing bloke wanted a wild night of passion with her? She had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. But hell, she definitely knew what her own body had in mind.
All she wanted to do was…
‘Mum! Mum, wake up, we’re here,’ Oscar demanded.
Marina’s eyes flew open, heart racing with that insane but very real fear that someone could have known what she was thinking. The complete disinterest on Oscar and Annabelle’s faces told her differently. They were too busy trying to get a few more seconds on their phones before they had to put them away. In the front, Graham was handing over twenty quid for an eighteen pound fare and telling the driver to keep the change.
They climbed out, Marina straightening her dress once again, then patting her hair to make sure her bob was still perfectly in place.
‘Shall we?’ Graham said, gesturing to the entrance of Gino’s.
Marina had to bite back a sarcastic retort. Why did everything he did and said bug her now? It was like some floodgate had opened and all the minor irritants that she’d let slide for years now made her teeth grind.
As soon as they opened the door, Zoe’s open arms greeted her. ‘Yay, you made it!’ she cheered, hugging her niece and nephew, then working up to the adults. She’d just let Marina go, when Ned appeared from the corridor to the cloakroom beside them.
‘Well, hello,’ he exclaimed, grin beaming as always. He shook Graham’s hand, then high-fived the kids, then, finally, stepped forward, arms open to hug Marina.
If anyone noticed that she stiffened slightly, they didn’t say.
That night at the Kemp, she’d refused Ned’s offer to go on to a club because she had no idea if it was an innocent suggestion or something more. She still didn’t know.
Was it a harmless bit of fun? After all, he spent loads of time with Verity too. Maybe he was just one of those guys who was comfortable in female company and who had lots of friends of the opposite sex.
Or maybe her radar wasn’t off, and he really had been hinting at something more.
‘It’s really good to see you,’ he said, when his mouth was so close to her ear she could feel his breath on her cheek.
That night, she’d refused him. She’d said no. She’d gone home and she’d lain next to a husband who hadn’t made her feel desired in years. But Graham wasn’t the issue here.
It was Ned Merton.
That night, she’d done the right thing, but she found herself so attracted to him that she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to do the same in the future.
26
The Girls – September 1999
‘He must not be in,’ Marina said, as they knocked for the fifth time and still got no response.
‘But he knew we were coming,’ Yvie said, the hurt making her voice tremble.
Zoe threw her arm around their younger sister. ‘Maybe something important came up at work. Or maybe… maybe he just forgot. It happens. I completely forgot two orders of egg and chips yesterday at the café, and I got a right bollocking.’
Verity knew Zoe was just trying to stop Yvie worrying. She was the most likely of all of them to fret about the others and they all hated to see her upset. Except, obviously, Dad, who wasn’t here waiting to spend the day with them as they’d arranged. Totally thoughtless of him and Verity just didn’t understand it.
‘Let’s go home and phone him,’ Marina suggested. ‘Or maybe Mum has heard from him and has a message for us.’
‘Mum’s out with Gregor today. They were going shopping for a new car. Mum says she wants a BMW,’ Yvie said.
Verity had to clamp her mouth shut to stop herself making a bitchy comment. Mum had been seeing Gregor for about four months now and he’d already moved in with them. It wasn’t that they disliked him, because he was nice enough, but it was just that, well, sometimes it seemed like their dad had just been written out of their lives. Like he’d never happened. It was just Mum, Gregor and the girls, one big happy family, and Dad didn’t even get a look-in. And Verity really hated that.
‘It would be a lot easier if we had one of those mobile phones,’ Zoe said. ‘I’m saving up for one, but it’s going to take me years unless someone leaves me a mahoosive tip! Right, let’s go. We can come back later when we know what’s going on.’
Verity stayed quiet, but she’d already decided not to go along with Zoe’s plan. This was the third time Dad hadn’t been here when they’d come to visit, so it wasn’t a complete shock, but still, something didn’t feel right. She wasn’t going to say that to the other three here though. Zoe would just tell her she was crazy and everything was fine, Marina would get all bossy and Yvie would only worry and get upset.
‘You three go on and I’ll catch up. I just want to nip to the bookshop and see if they’ve got a book I was looking for.’
‘Which one?’ Zoe asked.
Shit. She couldn’t think, so she went on the offensive. ‘Does it really matter?’ she answere
d with a withering stare. There. That would get rid of them.
With a couple of eye rolls, her sisters headed off down the street in the direction of home, while she started to walk slowly the other way. When she saw over her shoulder that they were out of sight, she doubled back to Dad’s flat.
He’d moved there about six months ago, not long after their parents had announced they were getting divorced. It was a ground floor flat in a tenement building about a mile away from their house. At first, they’d visited him a couple of nights a week and every Sunday, but that had dwindled as the months passed and he told them he was working later at nights. Now they just came on a Sunday, and even then he wasn’t always there.
Verity didn’t understand it. None of them did. Dad had always been the fun one in their family, but now he was so different most of the time. Sad. The older three sisters had talked about it and decided it must be because of the divorce. He was lonely. He missed them. No wonder he wasn’t on top of the world any more.
They were just all hoping it would get better over time.
She’d read in loads of books about couples who split up and became friends again after a while, so maybe that would happen here. Or maybe, Yvie’s night-time prayers would be answered and they’d get back together. Although, every time Verity heard Yvie say that, she told her not to be so stupid – what was the point of getting her hopes up? Of course, Marina and Zoe thought she was terrible for slating Yvie’s dream, but she didn’t care.
It wasn’t that she disliked her sisters – although she knew that’s what they thought. It was just that there was always noise and chaos and they were always there, while she preferred to be on her own so she could read or study. Dad had always said she was so smart she could be a teacher and she liked that idea. He looked so proud when he said it and she knew it would make him so happy. Besides, how cool would it be to help people learn stuff? And not just because she could boss others around for a change.
Back at the flat, she thudded on the door again, just in case Dad was in a deep sleep. Still no answer.
She bit her bottom lip while she decided what to do. He didn’t ever open the front windows because they were directly on to the street, but maybe…
Taking a chance, she headed through the close to the back court, a concrete area with drying lines and sheds with overflowing bins that smelled. It made her stomach churn a bit, so she tried not to breathe in. Turning left, she tried to peer in the window to her dad’s bedroom, but no luck – the curtains were closed. That’s when she noticed a tiny gap at the bottom of one of the windows where it hadn’t been closed properly.
Using all her strength, she pushed it up just far enough that she could pull over an old milk crate from the bin shed and stand on it, then climb in.
Actually, ‘climb’ was a bit of an overstatement. She forcefully launched herself forward in a dive that took her through the curtains, and she landed with a thud on the carpet.
The first thing she noticed in the dark room was the smell. It was like nothing she had experienced before. It was sweet and sour at the same time, like the room hadn’t had any fresh air for a long time. Deciding to rectify that, she pulled the curtains open.
That’s when she saw him. Her dad was lying on the bed, with his clothes still on, although his T-shirt was all dishevelled and there were stains all over it.
A cold horror spread through her as a terrifying thought popped into her head. Was he dead?
Just as she was about to stick her head out of the window and scream for help, he moved, grunted.
Oh, thank God. ‘Dad?’ she said, tentatively.
No reply. Just another grunt.
In a split second though, her relief turned to anger. He’d been there all along, while they were outside banging the door. Could he not even have got up for them? Set his alarm? It was almost noon. Why was he still sleeping? He’d never let them stay in bed until that time.
‘Dad!’ she repeated, louder and more forceful this time. ‘Dad, wake up!’
She said it again. And again. Shaking him the final time until he finally opened his eyes. The weirdest thing happened. For a moment, it was as if he didn’t recognise her, and then she saw confusion, then something else. Irritation, maybe?
‘How did you get in?’ he asked sharply.
That took her aback a bit. Mum was the one who could be harsh with her words, not Dad. But still, he was the one who’d messed up here and he had no right to take it out on her.
‘I climbed in the window. I was worried. I mean, what are you doing? We were outside banging the door for ages and you didn’t answer…’
‘Verity, I’m not feeling very well today.’
Oh. He was sick. Her anger immediately dissipated as she realised he couldn’t help it and she felt a wave of guilt for being angry with him.
‘Do you want me to make you something to eat? A cup of tea?’ It wasn’t just Marina who could do this stuff – she could take care of people when she wanted to.
‘No. I think it would be best if you just went home,’ he said in an unfamiliar, dead tone.
‘But why?’ she challenged him, anger rising again now. Why did he want her to go? He was her dad. Didn’t he want to see her? Didn’t he care?
‘Verity, just go. I’ll phone you later when I’ve sorted myself out.’
She sighed, confused, agitated. ‘No. Look, I’ll help you clean up and then I’ll make you lunch and…’
‘Verity, just go!’ he bellowed, more loudly than she’d ever heard him shout. ‘Just do what you’re bloody told for once in your life and go home.’
The shock was like getting punched in the face. He’d never shouted at her. He’d never been unkind. This was her dad. He loved her. He was her favourite person, the only one who really understood her and didn’t mind that she was a bit weird, a bookworm who liked her own company. ‘Just be you, darling,’ he’d tell her. ‘That’s all you need to be.’
He wasn’t saying that now.
‘Get out!’ he shouted again, even louder, making Verity’s whole body shake and her legs feel like they were going to give way beneath her.
Fear, confusion and panic consumed her.
She could have stayed and fought with him, but she didn’t. She turned around, sped down the hall, out of the front door and she ran. She ran really, really fast, until her thudding heart was due to the exertion and not just the absolute terror of what had just happened.
She didn’t stop until she was home, upstairs, and back in her room. Alone. Absolutely terrified about what had just happened.
And even more scared when she wondered what would happen next.
27
Zoe – Last Christmas at Marina’s Home
‘Don’t you think it’s crazy how much life can change in a year?’ Zoe said, popping a mini mince pie in her mouth, her hand moving quickly to avoid Marina smacking it with a spoon.
Yvie was the first to take her up on the question, the two large green baubles on the bosom area of her red jumper rising and falling with every gesticulation as she spoke. ‘You think? Let’s see… last Christmas, I was single, knackered, I’d just finished a double shift and came straight here after no sleep, I was several stones overweight and vowing that “By this time next year, I’ll have Jennifer Lopez’s arse.”’ She stopped for breath. And a mini mince pie, her favourite kind, with the raisins inside and the icing on top. ‘This year, however, I’m single, knackered, I’ve just finished a double shift and come straight here after no sleep, I’m several stones overweight and, ah, about ten minutes ago I announced that by this time next year I’ll have Beyonce’s arse. So yeah, I’m totally changing things up. Pass me a bit of that yule log before I start to weep.’
Zoe did as she was asked, once again avoiding Marina’s tendencies towards violence with a spoon. As always, Michael Bublé was crooning in the background, and Zoe definitely couldn’t remember him ever singing any Christmas song that included four sisters and an assault charge.
‘I don’t think my life’s changed at all,’ Verity added, with a vehemence that was so excessive, Zoe glanced at her to check she was okay. What was rattling her cage tonight? She’d been tense and brittle since she arrived. Not that that was anything new – she’d been tense and brittle for years, although it had got even worse over the last twelve months – but Zoe was hoping that Verity would find a bit of Christmas cheer at some point in the day. Maybe she was just knackered, Zoe decided. She’d seen how chaotic it had been for Ned over the last few weeks of term. There had been Christmas concerts, the school winter fair, trips to carol services, classrooms to decorate, hyper children to calm down and five nativity plays over three days. At one point she had found him up at 3 a.m. making shepherds’ costumes out of her spare room sheets. She’d been so impressed by his dedication that she’d forgiven him for destroying her bedlinen.
‘Mmmm, my life is definitely different now,’ Marina concluded, raising her head from the Scotch Broth she was stirring on the stove. ‘I’m going straight to the Scotch Broth and not wasting time with sushi that will end up in the bin,’ she looked pointedly at Verity, who refused to take the bait and apologise for last year’s Sushi-gate.
‘It does smell incredible,’ Zoe offered, melting as another whiff from the stove assaulted her nostrils. Despite all the bickering, the dramas, the differences, the presence of Graham’s bitchy mother, and whatever nugget of infuriation her own mother would bring, Marina’s house at Christmas was one of her favourite days of the year. The work Marina put into it was evident, from the décor, to the meal, to the gifts, all in size order under the tree. Perfectionism was alive and well in this house. But it was more than all that. Their relationships might not be perfect, and God knows, Marina and Verity were hard work sometimes, but it was the one day of the year that they were all together and made an effort.
‘Dad would have loved this.’ The thought caught her off guard, especially when she realised that she’d said it out loud, causing a pause in the conversation as they all contemplated that for a moment.
