Page 24 of The Affair
Connie gulped. She’d entirely forgotten that Lynne was staying the night, en route from Aberystwyth to give a lecture at Southampton University. ‘Great,’ she replied, with a forced enthusiasm she hoped her sister wouldn’t detect. ‘See you later.’
She was glad Devan would be late: he and Lynne had never got on. Lynne had called Devan ‘Dr God’ in the early days. She thought him too handsome, too pleased with himself. But she’d been dismissing Connie’s choices since they were both small.
This could not be put down exclusively to sibling rivalry, Connie had always felt, because Lynne was the clever, successful daughter, approved of by both their parents, but particularly by her solemn, hardworking father – a civil servant in the Department for Education. Connie, by contrast, had been the troublemaker, the one who’d caused her father to clutch his brow in despair for her lack of focus on school-work and general dislike of authority and rules. She’d been much closer to her mum, who didn’t care so much about such things.
Devan had tried, in the early days, to get on with Lynne. But when he saw his efforts were futile, he’dstepped back. ‘She always makes me feel as if I’ve done something wrong. As if I’m not good enough,’ he would complain.
‘Join the club,’ Connie had responded.
But she’d found as she got older that her position towards her sister had softened – especially now both parents were dead. She loved Lynne, and if they kept their exposure to each other sporadic, they got along fine. Tonight, she would keep things simple: open a nice bottle of red wine, cook a tomato and pepper spaghetti – Lynne didn’t eat meat – and get lots of chocolate in. She’d be gone after breakfast.
‘God, am I ever glad to be here,’ Lynne said, plonking her overnight bag on the kitchen tiles and letting out a long sigh. ‘Bloody roadworks on the four seven nine, then an accident just before the bridge. It’s taken me almost five hours!’ She was taller than Connie and neurotically thin, her dyed dark-blonde hair cut to her shoulders with a fringe that was too short and neat, giving her face a severe look. They were nothing like each other. Lynne was the spit of their father while Connie, with her auburn hair and fair skin, resembled absolutely no one in her family.
‘Where’s Devan?’ Lynne asked, accepting the glass of wine Connie pressed on her.
‘With a friend. They’re checking out a car.’
‘And getting up to no good, I expect.’ She winked at Connie.
Connie wasn’t sure what that was supposed to meanso she smiled and turned back to skinning the red peppers she’d just scorched under the grill. ‘How’s Roddy?’
Lynne wriggled on her kitchen chair, adjusting her gold disc pendant on its fine chain and settling the collar of her cream blouse. ‘Happy as a sandboy. Our life is now regulated to the nth degree.’
Connie frowned.
Her sister’s voice had dropped to a dull monotone. ‘We shop in the same supermarket on the same day at the same time. We park in the same spot and buy the same food, which we eat in the same rotation each week. We go to the pub on Friday nights for two hours, then get fish and chips on the way home. Roddy has his rugby on Saturday, then there’s church on Sunday, we change the sheets on Monday … We do everything together.’ She stopped, giving a light shrug.
Connie winced. Not just at the horrendous-sounding schedule of her sister’s life, but at the weariness in Lynne’s voice. Rhodri had been a bull of a man in his youth, a talented tight-head for his local rugby team, a loud, laughing, good-natured person. He still was, to a degree. But his body had gone to seed: he was now seriously overweight and idle since retiring from BT. ‘You’re OK with that?’
Her sister didn’t reply, her face very still. ‘It is what it is,’ she said quietly. ‘I’d love to get away once in a while. But Roddy doesn’t like the heat, hates being squeezed into plane seats – which I can understand at his size – so we never go anywhere.’ She shot Connie a half-smile. ‘Not like you, gadding about all over Europe.’
Connie wasn’t sure ‘gadding’ quite described her job, but she let it go. ‘Can’t you go with a friend?’
Lynne gave a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t leave Roddy.’
They’re living Devan’s dream, she thought, with a wry smile. Her sister appeared to be pandering to Roddy’s whim just to keep the peace.Or is it because that’s what Lynne wants to do and is blaming it on him?
‘What would happen if you did?’ Connie slid the charred chopped peppers into the saucepan with the sautéed onions and garlic, the tinned tomatoes, then lit the hob, poking a bay leaf beneath the surface and grinding in some black pepper. She would add fresh basil at the last minute.
Her sister looked as if she were confused by the question. ‘Well …’ she took a sip of wine ‘… it’s not worth the hassle, to be honest. He’d fret and I’d have to cook all the food before I went and freeze it … I’d worry about him. Even me being away tonight was winding him up.’
Connie was shocked. She laid the wooden spoon on the chopping board and turned to her. ‘That sounds dreadful, Lynne.’
‘Does it?’
Connie thought she detected tears in her sister’s blue eyes. Knowing Lynne would hate it if she went over and put an arm around her, she just said, ‘Don’t give up. You’re too young for that. Find a friend who wants to travel and plan a trip. I’ll help you.’
Lynne glanced at her, her expression unreadable, but said nothing.
‘You might be surprised by how well Roddy copes.’
Connie dragged out the pasta pot from the bottom of the pan drawer and put it under the tap. Lynne had been so independent, so highly thought of in her professional life – it staggered her that she should be reduced to this.
‘I’ve got the vegetable garden,’ she heard her sister say, almost defensively. ‘That takes up a lot of my time. And I’m learning the ukulele – there’s a man in the village who gives classes. I’m pretty crap, but it’s fun.’
Connie smiled encouragingly and refilled her sister’s glass. She was just opening the fridge to get out the lettuce when the front door banged and Devan appeared. It was clear to Connie that he’d been drinking from his loose expression and the way in which he leaned to starboard, resting his head against the jamb.
Lynne jumped. ‘Hi, Devan.’
