Letters From My Sister (11 page)

The hotel bedroom looks like a mini-paradise. A four-poster bed with white linen sheets, pale blue shutters, and creamy blue tiles in the bathroom. Tiny windows looking out on to the gardens. It is very tempting. ‘It looks nice …’

‘Nice? I don’t do “nice”, Katie. I do “amazing”. The place ticks
all
the boxes. I mean, even Madonna has stayed there,’ Sam boasts.

I smile. ‘You are …’ I’m about to say ‘a sad name-dropper’, but then stop myself, realizing that he’s being completely serious. Normally, am I impressed by all of this? Yes, I suppose I am. All I want to say to him now is, Who cares?

Finally he finds his trainers in his gym bag. ‘Check out the spa and beauty room,’ he continues, gesturing to the picture in the book of a woman being massaged. ‘You can have a seaweed wrap, apparently it gets rid of the build-up of toxins. You girls are funny. Right, got to run.’

He stands in front of the mirror to make some last-minute adjustments to his hair. ‘I’m looking forward to having this place to ourselves again.’

‘Um … me too.’

‘No offence to your sister, nothing like that, but, well, you know what I mean.’

She touched my arm today and it felt wonderful, I want to shout. You should have seen her expression when I took her on the London Eye. It was one of pure joy, and I was responsible for that. We played silly games on the bus and it was fun fooling around with her. Today made me feel alive. I want to tell all of this to Sam, I am aching to tell someone; but I don’t think it will mean anything to him.

Only a few weeks ago I was telling Emma how much I was dreading Bells coming to stay. Now I want to say how stupid I’ve been, how
wrong
I’ve been. I can’t wait to tell her all about our day together.

Sam kisses me, bringing me back to reality. ‘In a few days it’s back to you and me.’ As I kiss him, all I feel is dread. The prospect of waving goodbye to Bells leaves me feeling hollow.

CHAPTER TWENTY

‘When are you, er, going home, Isabel?’ asks Mr Vickers. He was walking past the shop and Bells had rushed out to greet him.

‘Tomorrow, catch train from Paddington. Do your funny thing,’ Bells demands.

He looks at me nervously. He doesn’t do his impersonation of a man on the train, holding on to the bar, which I know he’d do if I weren’t there.

I clear my throat. ‘Mr Vickers, would you like to stay for a cup of tea?’

This question sets him in a spin. ‘Er, er …’

‘Stay, Mr Vickers,’ Bells says.

‘How very, er, kind, er, of you. You are so very kind. Yes, please.’

I leave them downstairs while I go to the box room. Eve nipped out to get some milk, she’ll be back in a minute. I make the tea and take it downstairs, only to find Mr Vickers parading about in front of Bells. He appears to transform himself into a confident comedian when he is performing in front of an audience. ‘Who is, er, this?’ He clears his throat, puckers his lips and places his large purple hands behind his back. ‘These plants look very interesting, well worth talking to.’

‘Don’t know. Who?’ Bells punches his arm for an answer.

‘Hello, Mr Vickers,’ Eve says as she returns with the milk.

I hand him a mug of tea and a chocolate digestive.

‘Thank you so much,’ he repeats. ‘Do you, er, know who it is?’ He looks at each of us in turn.

‘I did not see you do it properly,’ Eve says. ‘Can you do it once more?’

He looks flattered by the attention and prepares himself again, putting on a distinguished voice, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘These plants look very interesting, well worth talking to.’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ Eve says, jumping up and down, ‘I know who you are, I know this voice.’

‘So do I! Prince Charles,’ I leap in before her.

Mr Vickers’s face breaks into a smile and I find myself smiling back at him. His eyes look grey and weary, as if they have seen too much nastiness in the world, but when he smiles his entire face changes. He has an innate goodness, like Uncle Roger, a face that would never tell a lie. ‘Er, yes, you are right, er …’

‘Katie. Call me Katie.’

‘Another one!’ Bells claps her hands.

‘What is your, er, favourite hobby?’ Mr Vickers asks her.

Bells looks at me. ‘You like cooking?’ I suggest.

‘Cooking,’ she repeats.

He thinks. ‘I have one.’ He picks up his biscuit and takes a bite. ‘Delicious, just the right consistency.’ He licks his lips. ‘Well, after much ruminating and cogitating I think the …’

‘I know,’ I burst out.

‘
Masterchef
man,’ cuts in Bells. ‘I know!’ She is jumping around.

‘Lloyd Grossman,’ I finish.

‘Er, correct.’ I notice his stammer returns when he is not performing.

‘Another!’ Bells demands just as Henrietta and her mother walk into the shop. They gawp at the strange party around my desk drinking tea. ‘Do stay, Mr Vickers, and finish your tea.’ I smile politely at him. ‘My bank manager came round,’ I tell Hen and her mother, signalling to Mr Vickers. ‘It was so kind of you to come and see me personally,’ I add, smiling at him.

That wipes the looks off their faces.

*

Bells, Sam and I sit in the corner of the restaurant looking at the menus. I take another sip of my vodka and tonic, and start to crunch a large piece of ice.

‘Don’t do that, Katie. It’s bad for your teeth,’ Sam says twitchily. A couple enter the restaurant. He casts his eyes in their direction and he visibly relaxes when he registers that he doesn’t know them.

‘Hello, Katie.’ Bells holds my hand and the vibration goes off loudly. We both laugh.

‘What
is
that?’ Sam furrows his brow. Bells holds out her hand towards him. ‘Um, the waiter’s coming over, do it later, yeah?’ he mutters.

‘I’d like the chicken, please,’ I tell the smooth-haired waiter when he stands at our table with his pad poised.

‘Chicken?’ I feel someone kick me under the table.

‘Sam, that hurt.’

‘Katie, I’m here to spoil you and Bells. We can eat chicken any old day.’ He looks at the waiter as if to say, Women, hey! Can’t take them anywhere. ‘What are the specials?’

‘We have salmon, or the smoked haddock risotto is very popular. I would also recommend the medallion of pork.’

Sam closes his menu smoothly. ‘Thank you, but I think I’ll go for the beef
en croûte
, please.’

‘Certainly, sir, a popular choice,’ the waiter affirms. ‘How would you like it cooked?’

‘Rare, please. You can’t beat top-class beef.’ Sam looks at me again. ‘Choose something more adventurous, Katie.’

‘But I love chicken, Sam.’ I don’t like the sound of my voice, a whimpering pathetic little sound. The kind children make when they say they don’t want to eat their carrots and peas.

He smiles at me as he touches his chin. ‘Kitty-kins, you’re a funny little mouse sometimes, a creature of habit.’ He scans the menu for me. ‘How about the scallops?’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ I say. ‘The scallops would be lovely.’

‘How about you, Isabel?’ he asks.

Bells has been noticeably quiet. She looks awkward. Perhaps she is quiet because she’s leaving tomorrow?

‘You have chips?’

Sam’s face drops and now I kick him under the table. ‘Yes, I’m sure you have chips, don’t you?’ I ask the waiter.

‘Of course.’

‘Why don’t you have the homemade beef burger with chips?’ Sam says.

‘Bells is a vegetarian,’ I say yet again. Does he never listen?

He raises his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘Sorry I spoke,’ he mumbles.

‘Bells, why don’t you have the vegetarian lasagne, with chips on the side?’

It worries me how quiet she is. Is she nervous about catching the train tomorrow?

‘Can choose my own food,’ she shouts, banging her elbow against the table.

‘Bells, I’m sorry,’ I say. Sometimes I slip into talking to her like a child and I have to stop it.

‘Would like risotto,’ she states.

‘You order the wine, Sam.’ I push my chair back and it hits the wall. ‘There’s no space! Is this the only table they had?’ It feels like we have the children’s table in this dark corner.

‘Afraid so.’

‘Really? But there are tables outside. It’s warm tonight.’

He rubs his nose. ‘Let’s stay here, shall we?’ His mouth begins to twitch too. ‘So, what have you two been up to today? Your last night, hey, Isabel. Bet you’re dying to get home.’

I know Sam is trying but he just irritates me.

‘Mr Vickers said goodbye. I like Mr Vickers, nice man.’

‘Mr Vickers? Who’s he now? I’ll just check I ordered the right wine.’ Sam swiftly changes the subject. I look ahead and see a vaguely familiar man joining the group in front of us. Sam is now lifting the menu to shield his face. His mobile rings. Still holding on to the menu with one hand, he picks his phone up with the other. I talk to Bells and Sam excuses himself, darting through the doors that lead downstairs to the loos.

After five minutes he still hasn’t returned. ‘Bells.’ She holds out her hand again and the buzzer goes off. I touch her arm. ‘Be back in a minute.’

*

‘Oh, mate, this is a nightmare,’ Sam says.

I stand at the top of the stairs, then quietly tiptoe down a couple and lean over the banister far enough to allow me to see him. Sam is by the cigarette machine, his back to me, one hand leaning against the wall. He laughs. I bet he’s talking to Maguire. ‘It’s Isabel’s last night and I seriously, I mean seriously, mate, need to get back in the good books with Katie. I’ve avoided them as much as I can.’ Sam is silent; he must be listening to something very profound. ‘Too right, Maguire, hopefully more action between the sheets when she’s gone. Jesus, it’s been like the Gobi Desert!’

I open my mouth and close it again.

‘I tell you, mate, when she told me her sister was coming to stay I didn’t expect this.’ He pauses as he listens. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah … absolutely.’ He paces the floor. ‘Too right, Maguire. This isn’t what I signed up for.’ Pause. ‘Yeah, I’ll see how it goes. I mean, I do love her. At least, I think I do, and I know she’s crazy about me.’

Who does he think he is? I want to hit him so hard, or better still put him in the stocks and throw rotten eggs at him, in front of Maguire and all his work colleagues.

‘Look, mate, better go and butter them up … Back to my post, yeah, you know how it is.’

*

The food still hasn’t arrived when Sam returns. ‘Sorry about that,’ he says, ‘a client, I had to take the call.’

On the surface I remain calm, but the pit of my stomach is a seething knot of fury. ‘Really? Who was it?’

‘No one you’d know, honey. All very boring stuff.’

‘What did they want?’

‘What’s with all the questions? It was a guy from work, that’s all. Crikey, Isabel, your sister can be a pain, can’t she?’ He laughs, hoping Bells will follow.

I watch Sam and can tell he is still preoccupied with the group in front of us.

‘Do you know those people, Sam? You keep on looking over?’

‘Tell you what, Bells. Why don’t we eat outside, hey?’ He gets up and takes his jacket.

‘Look.’ I smile sweetly at him, pressing a hand against his arm. ‘Our food’s arriving.’

Sam grimaces as he sits down again.

‘Lakemore?’ a man calls across to him then. ‘It
is
you! Good God,’ he bellows.

‘Hi,’ Sam says, trying to sound surprised, his cheeks burning with colour. The stout man with glasses comes over to our table. He is small and round, with curly brown hair and sideburns. I wait for Sam to introduce us but after a second-too-long gap do it myself. ‘Hello, I’m Katie.’

‘Yes, sorry, this is Katie. Katie, Colin Lucker.’

‘Hello, Katie, wonderful to meet you.’

‘Hi, Colin.’

‘Hello,’ Bells says, holding out her hand.

‘Hello, er …? Now who might you be?’

‘This is my sister, Isabel,’ I tell him.

‘Bells,’ she corrects me.

‘Hello, Bells.’ Colin shakes her hand. ‘Oh, my, what was that?’ He laughs curiously.

As I’m about to tell him Sam says, ‘Isn’t it hilarious, Colin? She’s a funny one is our Isabel.’

‘Better be getting back to my table.’ He shuffles back a few steps. ‘Nice to see you again, Sammy boy. We must catch up soon.’

‘Who was that, Sam?’

‘My old boss,’ he says, cowering behind the menu again and taking another large gulp of wine.

‘Really? What a coincidence. We could join them for coffee.’ The knot is unravelling in its own way. ‘Mr Lucker?’ I call out.

‘Christ, Katie. Leave it, will you,’ Sam snaps.

‘Er, yes?’ Colin Lucker answers tentatively.

Sam now kicks me so hard I don’t dare to continue. ‘Sorry, Colin, we’ll leave you to your dinner, please ignore us,’ Sam says to him cheerfully. He turns back to face me. ‘What’s your problem?’ he asks in a low whisper.

‘You,’ I reply. I didn’t want to say anything, not on Bells’s last night, but I can’t help it. I lean closer towards him. ‘I heard everything you said on the phone just now. Everything.’

Sam runs a hand through his hair. ‘What?’ he says.

‘This isn’t what you signed up for, is it?’ I try to look discreetly at Bells.

‘Hello, Katie,’ she says, holding out her hand.

‘Sorry, Bells. Not now,’ I say, turning back to Sam.

‘Don’t know what you’re on about,’ he mutters. ‘I was talking to a client.’

‘Don’t lie!’

‘Don’t lie!’ Bells repeats.

‘You were talking to Maguire!’

‘To Maguire.’

‘What is your sister going on about?’ he says to Bells, trying to keep his composure.

‘Sam. I heard.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have been fucking eavesdropping.’

‘Sam said F word,’ Bells laughs.

‘Bells!’ both Sam and I say together.

‘You having pudding?’ she asks me.

‘I’m pretty stuffed.’ He waves a hand at a waiter.

‘I want a pudding.’

He allows Bells a quick chocolate brownie. While she is still eating he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair, tells me he’s going to pay the bill and that we need to be ready, by the door, in five minutes. Sharp.

*

Sam sweeps round the corner in his BMW.

‘Slow down!’ I insist as we hurtle round another corner. I press my foot on an imaginary brake.

‘It’s all right, shut up. These cars are designed to belt along.’ He puts his foot down even harder.

‘Not funny, Sam, not funny.’ Bells is grappling with her seatbelt.

‘Bells, don’t take the belt off,’ I tell her.

I hear a click and twist round just as her door swings open and nearly hits a lamppost.

‘Jesus!’ Sam shouts. He grabs Bells’s floppy jumper and pulls her in, one hand anchored firmly on the leather steering wheel.

‘Pull over!’ I am shouting, turning from Bells, to the road, to Sam, to Bells again. ‘Sam, STOP!’

He pulls over swiftly, the tyres burning against the pavement, and turns off the engine. Thank God no one was driving behind us.

‘Not funny, Sam. Not funny,’ Bells berates him.

‘Christ Almighty,’ he repeats, his head in his hands and almost weeping. ‘My new car.’

*

‘But you nearly fell out of Sam’s car, Bells. Promise me you won’t do it again.’ I lift her feet on to the bed.

‘Too fast, Katie.’

‘I know.’

‘Was scared.’

‘So was I, but you could really have hurt yourself.’

She is still quiet.

‘’Night, Bells, sleep well.’ I turn off the main light.

‘Nothing around me?’

‘Nothing around you.’

‘Promise.’

‘I promise.’