Page 9 of Insomnia

“The dress? Yes. You can have it if you like. I’ll drop it in.”

I wonder why she’s suddenly dressing like this, like the art student she once was. She’s not young or free. Neither of us is. She sells houses on the Costa Brava. She’s probably got a wardrobe full of suits not dissimilar to mine, just cheaper. Why this pretense? Who’s she trying to impress? Me? The kids? Robert?

“Are you back for a while then?” Chloe says. “We haven’t seen you inages! Please say you are. Isn’t it great, Mum?” She looks at me as we reach the kitchen, Robert already getting wineglasses out and a bottle from the fridge.

“Sure is.” I look at Robert. “I’ll have a tea. I’ll make it. I should get Will to bed too. Come on, monkey. You can see Auntie Phoebeanother time.” Will stays wrapped around my sister’s leg, peering out at me from behind.

“Shall I take you?” Phoebe says, and Will nods, happy. “Okay then, let’s go. Are you too big for a story these days?”

“Paddington!”

“Paddington it is, then.” She scoops up my son again—she’s definitely been working on her strength because he’s not so little anymore—and then heads out to the hallway. “I’ll be back for that wine though.” Her eyes meet mine. “And a sisterly catch-up.”

“I’ll come and help. I want to hear about Spain,” Chloe says. “Are you staying for Mum’s birthday?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I hear Phoebe answer as they disappear off, leaving Robert and me alone. For a moment there’s a strange awkward silence and then he breaks it.

“She’s looking good,” he says as he fills the kettle. “Did you know she was back?”

“When does Phoebe ever tell me what she’s doing?” I avoid an outright lie and rummage in the fridge for milk.

“I’m going to watch the game on catch-up. Leave you two to it.” He picks up his wineglass and then pauses. “You don’t seem overly happy to see her.”

“Just tired. I wanted an early night.” I try to smile reassuringly.

“She won’t stay long,” he says. “She never does.”

We’re in the main living room which we rarely use, but it’s far away from Robert’s den. Chloe’s upstairs and Will was apparently asleep before Phoebe had finished the story.

“The family seems well,” Phoebe says after we’ve glared at each other in silence for a moment or two. “Chloe’s so grown up.”

“Why are youhere,Phebes? And why didn’t you text first to say you wanted to come over?” I’m too tired for games.

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to come. And I had a sudden urge to see your children. Thought we didn’t leave things too well yesterday.”

To be fair, she’s right. We didn’t. But I don’t really want her here either. Not with this other situation—her—hanging over our heads.

“All this business with our mother has made me think about family,” she continues. “The past. Times gone by. How it might be nice to reconnect while I’m here.” We sit in silence for a moment, all pent-up mutual annoyance.

“There’s no change, by the way, in case you were wondering,” she says.

“I wasn’t.”

“Of course you weren’t.” She looks at me with thinly veiled disgust. “Why would you give anyone else any consideration?”

“It’s not anyone else, it’s our mother. And I don’t want to think about her now. Not this week.”

“Ah, your fortieth birthday.” She smiles then, a small, tight expression. “I knew that was bothering you. Makes you think of her birthday and the things she used to say to you, I suppose.”

“Yousuppose?”Wow. What else does she think I’m thinking about? “And bothering is one way of putting it.”

“But it’s nothing real,” she says. “Just in your head. Whereas our mother dying is actually bothering me. No, that’s not quite right. It’s upsetting me, which I know you’ll find hard to believe, and I thought we could—”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about her,” I snap.

“Everything’s always about you, isn’t it? Heaven forbid we upset baby Emma.” She gets up, her smile gone, and pulls out her phone. “I’ll get a cab. I can seeI’mbothering you by being here. Can’t have me littering your perfect life with all our past.”

“How am I suddenly the bad guy?” What gives her the right to come to my house and attack me? And what the hell does she know about my life? Apart from a year or so sharing a flat when I was at uni, we’ve barely spent any time together at all.

---