A Sister’s Gift (23 page)

Crap, not that again.

‘Yes, and I have contacted them, several times, about it. But everything in Berkeley Square is at sixes and sevens and nobody seems to know anything about it.’ I’ve phoned half a dozen times, it’s true. ‘My project sponsor Professor Klausmann had no idea what it was about either.’ I pause significantly here, just so she knows I have friends in high places.

‘He wouldn’t, Ms Hudson. He sponsors your place but he doesn’t have anything to do with the running of PlanetLove.’

‘But…he’s already signed all my forms for me,’ I run on. ‘We think it was some sort of mistake.’

‘I hope so. That’s what we’re looking into at the moment.’ She goes quiet again and I imagine she must be reading my file.

‘Hello?’ I say after I’ve been hanging on in silence for a while. ‘Was there anything else?’

‘I’m just looking at the notes that have been written down here, Ms Hudson. I see Eve Mitcham has marked you down as an exemplary employee, showing enthusiasm and dedication to your job.’

‘Thanks.’

‘But I’m sure you understand that we’ll need to look into these mysterious question marks that have appeared over your profile. It’s probably nothing to worry about, but we have to check it out before your employment with our outfit can be confirmed.’

‘Oh. Can you tell me what the problem is at all?’

‘I’m afraid at this stage I actually have no idea. I’ve only just taken up this post so I can’t help you there. But I’m sure it’ll all be sorted soon. You might want to delay booking your flight over till it’s resolved, though. Naturally we can’t offer you back your old post till we’ve put this thing to bed.’

‘That hardly seems fair,’ I start. ‘I have tried to contact the PlanetLove offices to get to the bottom of it and now you won’t even tell me why…’

‘Is that all right with you?’ She carries on over me as if I hadn’t spoken.

‘It’ll have to be, won’t it?’ I tell her through gritted teeth. ‘So, what do you want me to do?’

‘Nothing at all, for now. I’ll conduct my investigations and then get back to you if I need to or if I have any questions for you. It’s probably, as you say, just an administrative error. But we need to make sure everything’s correct, you understand?’

‘Fine.’ I take a long glug of coffee. Then I take some more water for good measure. I can still fly out to Brazil. I can go and catch up with Guillermo. If these people have taken over the ‘outfit’ as she calls it, do we still even need those funds I’ve been working so hard to acquire? Maybe we don’t. And as I’m not pregnant, maybe that’s just as well. I don’t think I like the sound of this European Alliance Group. Something tells me there are going to be big changes in my job when I get back and I’m not going to like them.

‘I’ll speak to you soon, then?’

‘As soon as I can, Ms Hudson. Good to talk to you, and have a good weekend.’

‘Yeah, you too.’ Even though you’ve just pretty much ruined mine, I think crossly. What am I supposed to do now? I was about to book my flights for early next week. I suppose I should carry on and do that. They’ll soon figure out that they need me over there. They won’t bother with carrying out any investigations for too long, I shouldn’t imagine.

‘Hello?’ Hollie’s knocking so softly on my door I can barely hear her.

‘Hi. Won’t be a second.’ I stand up, still feeling groggy, and the pregnancy wand falls off the edge of the bed where I’d dropped it. Just as well, too, because I’d forgotten all about it
and she would have seen it when she came in and then there would have been all sorts of explanations needed.

I bend to pick it up, bloody thing.

That’s when I catch sight of the unmistakable single word running through the little window of the wand.

Pregnant
.

‘Can I come in?’ I open the door a fraction but it won’t go very far because Scarlett has her belongings scattered all over the floor. I push a bit harder, stooping to pull out a pair of socks that have got wedged under the door.

I’m going to ask her if she will do this. I’m going to ask my sister if she will sleep with my husband before she disappears out of my life for another two years and before anything that Richard’s just said to me has a chance to filter down to the common-sense part of my brain.

It is madness. I know it. Even if she agrees, it’s going to lead to the most uncomfortable dynamic imaginable between us all. If she does not agree I will only have succeeded in angering and disappointing Richard, because he’ll see this as evidence that my desire for a child is greater than my desire for him or for us. Even though that isn’t true – he’s wrong and the fact that I’m willing to try this route is testimony to how much I trust them both.

I trust Rich because he loves me. I trust Scarlett because -well, because she has no interest in Rich. He’s my husband and he’s ten years older than her and she’s got her own, very full life. I know she isn’t interested in having any part of mine. I’ve got to stand fast now and remember that.

‘I see you’ve managed to get quite a lot of packing done?’ I stand on the small patch of carpet by the door which hasn’t yet
been covered with books and papers and underwear and rub at my arms because I’m still feeling frozen from my walk earlier. Numbed, more like. What I have had to request this morning has somehow left me numbed, right to the very core. And now I’m going to have to do it all over again.

What have I got to offer her when Brazil is beckoning – judging by the state of her packing – in a few short days’ time?

‘Have you booked your flights yet?’ I press when she doesn’t answer. Scarlett turns from where she’s just thrown some rubbish into the bin. Christ, she looks rough. If this is her hangover from last night then she’s already more than made up for the alcohol-free Christmas I made her have. She looks as pale as the grey sky outside, and just as washed out. She shakes her head a fraction.

‘Are you OK, Scarlett?’ Rich hasn’t been in here and told her already, has he? Surely not? A cold fear runs through me at the thought. My sister grimaces and sits down on the edge of the bed, scattering a pile of papers as she does. She holds her hands over her stomach.

‘Are you going to be sick?’

‘I was already sick,’ she admits.

I fold my arms, feeling far from sympathetic.

‘I just heard from the people who are taking over PlanetLove,’ my sister croaks. ‘They sound like a right bunch of tossers…’

‘Do they?’ I sit on the little chair at the bottom of her bed and the cold breeze from the open window blows onto the top of my head. The flash of irritation passes in an instant. It doesn’t matter today. Not today. Today only one thing matters.

Scarlett grimaces. ‘I was looking for some Alka-Seltzer and a whole load of your stuff fell out of the bathroom cabinet,’ she gets out.

‘That’s OK. Would you like me to find you some?’

She shakes her head. ‘I got some water and some coffee. I think maybe I’m going to need an aspirin. I don’t know.’

‘Headache? I’ll get you a painkiller,’ I offer, standing up. ‘So, what’s up with the new people?’ I look at her curiously without making a move towards the door. Scarlett waves her hand dismissively, but, boy, does she look ill…

‘It’s all changing,’ she gets out at last. ‘Everything I left behind. By the time I get back it’s going to be gone, all of it.’

‘You’ve only been away for a few weeks.’

‘And in that time the PlanetLove base camp has been raided and changed location, our unit has been taken over by some kind of European alliance, the woman running it has decided she needs to investigate something to do with the job application I made to them over two years ago…’

‘Oh, how ridiculous!’ There’s a faint alarm bell ringing somewhere in my head but I am too taken up by my own concerns this morning to take heed. ‘It’s probably all just red tape and administrative hold-ups. Somebody forgot to sign and date a form somewhere along the line…’

‘Probably, yeah. But they don’t want me back there till they’ve checked it all out.’

‘They don’t?’ I sit back down on the chair, the thought of getting her an aspirin instantly slipping from my head. ‘What did your boss Eve say about it all?’

‘She sent me a text recently but she was a bit vague, if I’m honest. I get the impression it’s the other lot who are running the show now.’

‘So…you’ll be staying on here for a bit longer, then?’

‘Ha!’ she says in response, lifting her hands to her head.

‘Scarlett – I’ve been thinking about what you told me this morning. Are you one hundred per cent certain that you did that pregnancy test properly?’

She nods at me, her face ashen. ‘I know what you want to hear, Hollie,’ she says at last. ‘But it’s no use…’

I hang my head for a minute, taking in the finality of her words and dredging up the courage I need to ask her the next thing.

‘Then I have to run something past you. I’ve…I’ve had another idea.’ My sister gazes up at me through bleary eyes. ‘I don’t know if this is something you’d ever consider doing for me.’ I look at her helplessly. ‘Under the circumstances, I know that your answer is more than likely to be no. But I’m going to ask you anyway.’

Scarlett picks up the large tumbler of water by her bed and drains it. She glances at me for an instant, her cheeks bulging with water before she can manage to get it all down.

‘I’m going to ask you to consider staying on for a bit and trying out…what Mr Huang suggested.’

Her eyes widen.

‘I’m saying I think we should try the “natural method” of conception.’

Scarlett chokes and splutters then and the water splatters all over the bedclothes, all over her papers. ‘You’re saying
what?’

‘I know, I know.’ I pick up a little flannel that’s sticking out of her washbag and hand it to her. ‘It sounds outrageous. It sounds…desperate,’ I trail off. ‘But it worked for Mr Huang. He says you have very good
chi
. You’re young and you’re healthy and under the right conditions you should conceive naturally and easily, just like Mrs Huang…’

‘Oh, no, Hollie. No!’ My sister wipes up the spilt water, frowning furiously. ‘Don’t. Please. Just don’t, OK? Let’s not go there.’

‘I have to go there. There is no other place for me to go.’

‘Oh, yes, there is.’ Scarlett’s eyes suddenly take on a glint. ‘There’s adoption, for starters.’

‘Then it wouldn’t be Richard’s child. It wouldn’t be…it wouldn’t be mine.’

‘Yes, it would!’

She doesn’t know, she doesn’t remember all the things that I remember though…

For a moment, I can only stare at her dumbly.

‘I used to think of you as being mine, once upon a time,’ I tell her eventually. A child of my heart, if not of my body, but at the time I was too young to know the difference.

Does she remember the time me and Flo took her, aged four, for her pre-school booster injection at the clinic? She wanted to hold my hand on the way in. It was always me she looked to, for comfort and for succour, not Flo. It was me she wanted. But the nurse wouldn’t let me go in the room with her for the injection, she insisted Flo take her through. That didn’t go down too well. I don’t remember all the details but I remember Lettie kicking up an almightly fuss. Several nurses were drafted in to hold her down for the doctor in the end, and I wound up yelling at them all to stop, just stop, because they were hurting my Lettie and everyone turned to look at me in astonished embarrassment.

‘She’s not
yours
, Hollie Hudson,’ I remember Flo remonstrating with me afterwards, embarrassed by my noisy protestations. ‘You may think of her as yours but she isn’t. She never was and she never will be. I’ve given you too much of a free rein with her, that’s the trouble, but all that’s going to have to end.’

True to her word, Flo had taken Lettie’s little bed out of my room and put it in her own after that. She took to walking Scarlett to school herself, reading her bedtime stories and doing all the things that I liked to do for her. At the time I saw it as her stepping between us, driving a physical wedge between me and my sister, but the truth was she’d done more than that. She made me long for a time when I’d have a child of my own. Someone who nobody else could ever come and lay a claim to. Someone I could say ‘I love you’ to, in a way no one had ever been able to say it to us as kids.

‘There are other people in the world who could do this for you, for Christ’s sake, Hollie!’ Scarlett’s shocked voice brings me back to the present. She stands up and a whole pile of socks that
she’d been balancing on her lap fall now to the floor. ‘Why the hell would you ask me to sleep with your husband you…you stupid fool!’ She looks directly at me for an instant. ‘If he were my man I’d never let
you
anywhere near him, know that?’ She’s only half-joking, I can tell.

‘I know Richard is an attractive man. I’d like to think you wouldn’t take my suggestion any less seriously if he were ugly as a dog.’

‘Look, I’m packing to go now, Hol. Just let me go. I’m planning to take out a tourist visa if I can’t get my work permit from the European wot-not group. I’m planning…I’m planning on making a go of it with Gui. I need to get back!’

‘Please.’ I do not know where the strength of my desire comes from; I know that it’s foolhardy to be so persistent in the face of all this opposition, not to mention the opposition in my heart. ‘Please, reconsider, Scarlett.’

‘The thing is…’she looks at me pityingly ‘…I have already reconsidered, Hol.’

We look at each other for a long minute and the wind flutters in through the little open window and ruffles her papers so that they waft down off the chest of drawers and onto the floor. We both just stare at them. I don’t make a move to shut the window as I normally would.

‘You need to find something else to fill that void, Hollie,’ she says slowly. ‘Whatever space you think that baby’s going to fill for you – find something else to fill it. Look – see what I found this morning.’ She leans forward suddenly and picks up an old familiar tapestry bag. I’d forgotten all about that!

‘I found it stuffed into the back of the wardrobe,’ she says in answer to my puzzled expression. ‘Look.’ She opens the bag and tips out the contents. A pile of unfinished toddler cardigans and jumpers fall onto the bed. She shakes the bag a bit and the clatter of a dozen knitting needles follows. ‘All these beautiful things that you used to make. Why did you ever stop?’