Page 17 of Sisters Making Mischief
I’d had a good career, been a head of department, had organised people and events. I’d been married to the same man for nearly forty years, I’d produced two children, run my home efficiently and well. Was I going to allow myself to behave like this for the rest of my life?
Sara busied herself making me a conciliatory cup of coffee and bringing me the tin of Christmas biscuits which she placed at my elbow.
‘There aren’t many left,’ she said, ‘I think all the good ones have gone.’
I poked about amongst the Jammie Dodgers and broken digestives for a moment and then gave up and put the lid back on the tin.
‘Of course you can stay,’ I said at last, ‘I do understand things are hard for you all. It must be so difficult.’
Sara sighed with relief. ‘It wouldn’t be for long. Just a few weeks.’
Hang on, we had somehow gone from ‘a few days’to ‘afew weeks’.
What could I say? I wanted more than anything to be supportive and helpful because that’s what parents did in these circumstances.
‘Okay,’ I said, trying to sound both of those things, ‘of course, if you’re sure.’
‘I’ll tell the twins,’ Sara said, smiling for the first time in days. ‘Once John and his lot have gone, I’m sure they will settle down. You’ll hardly know we are here. And the school is only a twenty-minute drive. And I need to make an appointment with a solicitor. John has a mate who works in town, I could see him. Start the ball rolling.’
‘Well, at least have a talk and find out what your options are.’
Standing behind me, Sara swooped down to put an arm around my shoulders and kiss me on the cheek. She exuded an air of bitterness and my Chanel N° 5 bath oil.
‘Thanks, Mum. You’re the best. I don’t know what I would do without you.’
Was I the best? When in my head I was nearly screaming?
‘It’s fine,’ I said loosening her arm, which while affectionate was pressing uncomfortably on my throat. ‘We’d need to draw up some ground rules for everyone. What time you’ll be eating, what to do about laundry, that sort of thing.’
‘Of course,’ Sara said.
She came to sit next to me and put one hand over mine. Unfortunately, it was the one holding my coffee mug, and it slopped all over the table. Sara pulled a yard of kitchen roll off the dispenser and dabbed at it ineffectively.
‘The twins are out most afternoons after school, with their clubs and extra activities. We usually eat at about six thirty. They’re really not precious about food.’
‘That’s not the evidence that I’ve seen this week,’ I said, ‘they’ve hardly eaten a single meal without complaining about something. I’ve got a food delivery coming later; perhaps theycould let me have some suggestions. And the broadband here is very slow. And unpredictable,’ I said, ‘you need to tell them that.’
‘Oh, they won’t mind,’ Sara said, leaving the pile of coffee-sodden kitchen roll in front of me, ‘and they look after themselves pretty well. Occasionally I have to go and rescue plates and bowls from their bedrooms, but as a rule, they are no trouble. I hardly know they are there most of the time. Gosh, I’m so relieved. I’ve been dreading asking you. I think I need a drink.’
She went into the pantry and found the bottle of sherry thatsomeonehad replaced empty on the shelf. She pulled a face and put it back. Then she took out the Cointreau and slugged the last of it into a glass, adding some ice cubes for good measure.
I thought of suggesting that she might be drinking rather too much than was good for her, but we were interrupted by a piercing and heart-rending scream from the sitting room, which suggested that Poppy was trying to take someone’s teeth out without benefit of anaesthetic, and the now familiar shout of ‘Mum, tell her…’
‘Oh, FFS,’ Sara said, putting her glass down as she went in to see what the fuss was all about.
I sat looking at my coffee and tried to organise my thoughts. But suddenly I couldn’t. There just seemed to be one problem after another. Perhaps when I was younger, I would have felt differently, but that day I wasn’t sure that I had the strength to cope with it all. I had a ridiculous urge to run away from everything, to sit on a beach looking at the sea, or in the middle of some woodland listening to the breeze. Somewhere no one could ask me for anything.
At that moment my mobile rang, it was Isabel. At last, some sanity.
‘Bonjour ma soeur!’ she said cheerfully. ‘How’s my big sister this New Year’s Eve?’
She sounded so happy, and I could almost imagine her sitting in her warm, friendly kitchen on one of the mismatched chairs, her feet up on another. Perhaps she would have a big bowl ofcafé crèmein front of her. There would be sunlight streaming in through the windows, her husband, Felix, and their two sons would be out somewhere doing something useful and manly. Chopping wood perhaps or servicing Isabel’s car.
I almost said, the usual stuff:Oh, I’m fine, how are you?But suddenly I couldn’t, my throat seemed to close up and to my horror I found myself on the brink of tears.
‘We have been having a lovely time, slobbing around doing nothing,’ Isabel continued, not waiting for me to answer, ‘lots of food, far too much wine because our neighbours all gave us cases of the stuff when they came over, the Christmas tree fell over twice because one of the cats got in and tried to climb it, so there are pine needles everywhere. I really should get the hoover out but it’ll only get dirty again, so really what’s the point until Felix takes it away? I’ll do it when my menfolk have gone back to work. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet. We are having work done on one of thegîtes, and we are expecting delivery of a shepherd’s hut sometime in the spring, which is going to be very popular. I wouldn’t mind moving in there myself. Now, what’s the matter?’
My sister had always been able to do this. Swerve away from the subject and zone in on my mood, even though it seemed that she was being blithely oblivious to it. I felt somehow seen for the first time in days.
