Letters From My Sister (21 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Sometimes I panic at night. Am I going to work in my shop for the rest of my life? Not that it’s a bad life. Then my mind wanders to home. What if Mum has a relapse or something happens to Dad? Or to Bells? What if I end up an old maid? We all assume we’re going to meet someone, but what if we don’t? What if I end up an old lady feeding her cat fresh prawns. because I never had children and went completely potty? That could be me in years to come. It’s that ‘What am I doing, where am I going?’ question which quietly nags me during the day but screams at me at night. When I wake up, I calm down. Mum is all right. Dad is happy. Bells is fine. I have a job. I have good friends. I know I am going in the right direction. I have so much to be thankful for.

We always want what we can’t have, don’t we? When I was about six I used to pray over and over again for blue eyes like Dad’s. ‘Your eyes are the colour of the sea,’ I used to tell him as a child. After school I’d rush home to look in the mirror. They stayed green. The colour of a murky pond, I thought. I could not understand why God didn’t answer my prayers.

When Bells was born I prayed that she would get better so that I could have Mum back.

I stopped going to church when I was a self-conscious fifteen-year-old, but I still pray. Just don’t tell anyone.

*

Mark stands at the front door, trailing his bike behind him. I haven’t seen him for a fortnight. He left a message on my mobile but I didn’t ring back or go round to his flat. However, I had to make contact when Bells arrived so I asked him if he wanted to come to the cinema with us tonight. Bells is staying for the weekend and will be around for Jonnie and Emma’s Christmas party tomorrow evening. She wouldn’t forgive me if she didn’t see Mark.

His hands are covered in grime and his left cheek is smudged with oil too. His hair is even more all over the place.

‘Did you fall, are you OK?’ I ask. What’s he doing here? It’s only two o’clock.

‘Nearly. The chain came off.’ He grimaces. ‘Clunk, in the middle of the street.’

‘Hello, Mark.’ Bells rushes up to him and claps him on the back.

‘Hi, Bells! How are you?’

‘You have car like Sam?’

‘No,’ he admits, almost in apology.

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t. Anyway, how are you?’

They hold hands and her little device vibrates. ‘I should have known,’ he laughs. Bells is rocking forward and clapping her hands together.

‘Come in,’ I tell him. He chains his bicycle to the gate and follows us indoors. His mobile rings and he takes the call.

‘That was Jess, she can come tomorrow,’ he tells me, putting his phone back in his rucksack.

‘Great,’ I reply.

Damn, bugger and shit.

‘It’ll be good to meet her properly,’ I continue in this horrible cheery tone that I don’t recognize as my own.

‘That your girlfriend?’ Bells asks.

Mark nods.

‘You gonna get married?’

He looks at me and I titter cheerfully. ‘Bells, don’t be so nosy.’ I can’t get rid of this merry persona – ironic when I feel anything but. We go into the kitchen. All my washing is hanging on the drier next to the washing machine. Mark is standing in front of a line of my knickers and bras. There’s one particularly attractive pair of grey M&S pants that have seen better days. I wish I could touch a button and they’d all disappear.

I put the kettle on. Bells hands round some fig rolls. ‘Shut eyes,’ she says as she holds something towards Mark. He looks at me, then back at Bells. ‘Go on, don’t worry, it’s not a toad,’ I laugh. ‘Well, I don’t know actually. It could be.’

‘OK,’ Mark whimpers. ‘But I want a fig roll. I love fig rolls. The children do this at school sometimes. Made me sit on a whoopee cushion once when we had Joanna Lumley in to speak about acting. Deeply humiliating.’ He squeezes his eyes shut.

Bells plants a square of mouldy cheese into his hand. It has fur all over it. From the way her shoulders are heaving up and down I can see she finds this hilarious, especially when Mark throws it back at her, shouting, ‘It’s alive, it’s alive!’

‘Mark, Bells and I have to go out in a minute, we’re going to Sainsbury’s and …’

‘Sainsbugs,’ Bells says, and proceeds to roar with laughter again.

‘I promised Emma I’d get some food for tomorrow.’

‘I’ll help.’

‘You look a mess, you can’t go out looking like that.’ Why am I sounding like his mother now? I can’t bear being so conscious of everything I say and do around him.

‘So what?’ Mark says. ‘You always say you shouldn’t care what people think.’

I smile. ‘Fine. Come.’

*

The supermarket is packed with shoppers and ‘Jingle Bells’ is playing in the background.

‘Mark, what are you doing for Christmas?’

‘Mum and Dad are in New Zealand with my brother the sheep farmer.’

‘You’re not going?’

‘I can’t.’

‘How come?’

‘It’s too expensive to fly out for a week. Anyway, they’re coming home for the New Year. I need to save a bit of money for next year,’ he adds.

I nod. ‘What’s happening next year?’ Mark looks preoccupied and doesn’t immediately reply. ‘You’re not going to be on your own at Christmas, are you?’ I press.

‘No. I’m seeing Jess and a few friends.’

‘Where does Jess live?’ I realize I know the answer. Why is there this sudden need to fill the space between us?

‘Edinburgh.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. Edinburgh.’ Why is every word I say so flat and obvious?

‘Excellent,’ he mutters out of nowhere, looking distracted. ‘Where’s Bells?’ We both glance around, and walk up the aisle until we see her at the delicatessen counter talking to the man behind the trays of olives and cold meats. He’s wearing a hat with a silver Christmas star pasted on to the front. I can hear her asking him how old he is.

‘Any more news on the book?’ I sound like an interviewer. I realize it doesn’t matter because Mark isn’t even listening to me. He’s watching Bells put on the man’s silver-starred hat. ‘Mark?’ I nudge him. ‘You’re a world away.’

‘Sorry.’ He turns to me. ‘I’ve got something on my mind.’

‘That sounds serious?’

‘Yes, no. I don’t know. It’s school, something’s come up that I need to think about.’

‘Anything I can help with?’

‘No,’ he says harshly.

‘Mark?’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’ll work it out.’

Bells crashes into our trolley.

‘Hey Bells. Race you to the …’ Mark looks at me for inspiration.

I scan my list. ‘We need mini-sausages and Parmesan cheese.’

‘Race you to the sausages!’ Mark says as he tears off with Bells.

*

Mark, Bells and I are queuing for popcorn. Bells buys a barrel of Coca-Cola. We’re about to see Hugh Grant’s latest film. ‘You want Coke?’ she asks Mark and me.

‘Not another one?’ he gasps. ‘Bells, you’ll have Coke coming out of your ears. I must buy some Coke shares, the industry does well out of you.’

‘Not funny, Mark.’

‘If I drank that much I would spend more time on the loo than watching the film,’ I tell her as we walk to screen number five.

We sit down next to a young couple. I’m in the middle. Bells is laughing at the Cornetto advert. I turn to put my hand into the popcorn. Mark leans towards me and takes a handful. Our hands meet and stay there. I’m aware of every move he makes, each touch.

I hear noisy shuffling of feet. The couple sitting next to Bells are moving seats. ‘Sorry, excuse me,’ they are whispering as they step over people’s feet. I am not going to let it ruin the evening. Don’t say anything, Katie, I tell myself. I want to shout ARSEHOLES and struggle to restrain myself. The only reassuring thing is that I don’t think Bells has noticed, has she?

‘Excuse me?’ I hear Mark saying as he stands up. The auditorium has darkened as the film crackles on to the screen. It’s deathly quiet except for the sound of crisp and sweet packets being opened and ice-cream wrappers being peeled off. The couple turn around. ‘I’m sorry to stop you in your tracks but is there something wrong with your seats?’ I can feel everyone listening. ‘Because if there is, maybe you should report it?’

They look at one another sheepishly. ‘I think we should be in the row behind,’ the man weakly gives as an excuse.

‘You should be ashamed of yourselves,’ Mark says quietly, but firmly, and sits down again. The film begins.

He takes off his glasses, wipes them clean on the sleeve of his jumper and then puts them on again. He looks tired, something is clearly worrying him. I wish he would tell me. He must be aware that I’m looking at him because he turns to me. ‘What? What is it?’

‘Thank you.’ I touch his hand and we link our fingers.

‘What for?’

‘For telling them off,’ I whisper.

‘Shh,’ we hear from the row behind.

We both turn back to the screen, withdrawing our hands quickly.

I love Mark for speaking out. The only thing is that Bells is now painfully quiet. I hand her the popcorn but she doesn’t take any. I think she understands far more than I give her credit for.

I think she always has.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Bells sits on my bed as she watches me get dressed. I’m wearing a pale blue jumper tied at one side with a ribbon, jeans and pointed shoes with a small heel.

I brush my hair in front of the mirror and catch Bells in the reflection. She’s rummaging through my make-up bag, picking out lipsticks, powder and generally making a mess. ‘What’s this?’ she asks, holding up an eyelash curler. ‘You and Mark gonna get married?’

‘Me marry Mark? I don’t think so,’ I laugh as I tie my hair back and then let it loose again. ‘It’s an eyelash curler, by the way.’

‘Why you not going marry Mark?’

She’s now trying to put on some of my nail varnish. ‘Er, he hasn’t asked me,’ I reply, still watching her carefully as she attempts to paint her nails with my silver nail polish.

‘Not same as you, am I?’

She has never asked me this question directly, although I know she has asked Mum. I don’t know what to say. Oh, please, someone tell me what is the right thing to say. I can’t lie and pretend she is to please her. Bells will see right through that anyway. I turn round and see a great circle of silver on the white linen. ‘Bells, oh no!’ I rush over to examine the stain.

She throws the bottle across the room and it hits the wall, polish oozing out and on to the carpet.

‘Bells! What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?’ I retrieve the bottle and put the top back on tightly.

‘Can’t do like Katie,’ she shouts, punching one hand with the other, silver smudging across her palms. ‘Not same,’ she says firmly. ‘Not normal, am I?’

I sit down next to her. ‘What’s brought all of this on?’ I ask gently.

‘Not normal,’ she emphasizes again, cross that I don’t understand what she’s saying. ‘People stare, not nice.’

‘Bells, you’re normal to me, to Dad, Mum, to all the people who love you.’

Bells doesn’t look convinced. She’s heard that one before. ‘Not like Katie.’

‘Why do you want to be like me? I’m not half the person you are.’

‘You beautiful.’

‘That’s not what makes a person,’ I say adamantly. ‘Don’t you ever think that.’

‘Not beautiful like Katie.’

‘Well, I’m not a good cook like you. I can make chips and steak, and that’s about it. And a boiled egg. I’m like Dad.’

She still looks upset.

‘Look at the way you ran the house when Mum was so ill. I don’t think you realize how much you can do, Bells.’

She stops hitting her hands together and laughs weakly. ‘Am good cook, aren’t I?’

‘You are. This stuff doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t,’ I say, holding the nail polish in front of her. ‘It’s all pretty superficial. You are you, don’t ever change. Wave, smile, say hello to people like you always do.’ I am thinking of the time when Bells was in my shop and I was ordering her not to say hello to customers. ‘Or if they’re being plain rude, you stare back, don’t let them get away with it. You can rise above all that, Bells. That’s why people love and admire you. Look at Mark, or Eddie at the deli, or Robert and Ted, Mr Vickers, or the
entire
football team for that matter. I’ve never seen such a fan club.’

A small smile lights Bells’s face.

‘I feel like we’re really getting to know each other now,’ I stumble on, ‘and I love being with you. You’re a top person, Bells.’

‘You pretty,’ she says again, looking at my clothes. Bells is wearing a patchwork skirt, with a black evening top from the shop, and around her wrist is a black leather bracelet with silver studs. She’s also wearing her three small stud earrings in the left ear. ‘Won’t ever look like you, will I?’

‘I haven’t got your beautiful coloured hair.’

‘Mum’s hair,’ she says.

‘Yes, Mum’s. Do you still want to put some of this nail varnish on?’ I ask, holding up the pot.

She gives me her hand and I carefully apply the silver over her short bitten nails. ‘Look, I’ve made a mess too.’ I smile, wiping away the excess nail varnish with a tissue. ‘You are you, Bells, Katie is Katie, Mark is Mark. If we were all the same, life would be pretty dull, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, Katie, that’s right. Thank you, Katie.’

*

‘Can I get you another drink?’ I ask Eve, who has brought Hector along too. He is looking plumper than usual and is wearing a royal blue tank top.

‘Katie, what a great party!’ She’s already tipsy.

‘What a lovely home,’ Hector adds, looking around the room.

Emma, Bells and I decorated the Christmas tree with silver and gold balls, silver, red and gold ribbon, and chocolate Santas wrapped in foil. Emma put fairy lights in the kitchen and bunches of holly in the windows with fake robins nestled in the leaves. We made canapés all day. Sausages, cheese puffs, mini-mince pies. If I have to wrap one more shrivelled prune in bacon I shall go mad.

‘Eve, I wanted to thank you so much for keeping the shop going these last few months. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

‘It is no matter. I was happy to. You know, Mr Vickers helped me too. He likes to count the day’s takings.’ She smiles widely. ‘
Mon Dieu!
’ she exclaims, hitting my arm. ‘I tell you, Mr Vickers, he is amazing! He sorts out my love life. He tell me to go for it with Hector, that looks are not the most important thing in the world.’

Ouch! Poor Hector, but to my surprise he finds this rather funny.

‘Excuse me, I am here,’ is all he says.

Then they both laugh together, Hector gently nudging her against the hip, and it’s the most touching thing I’ve seen.

‘Oh my God! How did you get that bruise the size of a tennis ball?’ I ask Eve. It’s on her left arm, near the elbow.

Hector chuckles. ‘I might not be number one in the looks department but there are other departments I’m rather good at,’ he says as he walks away from us proudly. Eve looks at me mischievously. ‘Hector and I, we have sex last night,’ she whispers. ‘Against the bath sink, on the kitchen table, on the … oh, what is the word?’

‘The bed?’

‘
Non!
Katie, you are so boring, so dull. We make love everywhere. By the fire, on the …’

‘That’s enough!’ I laugh, putting my hands over my ears. ‘Stop it. Actually, I’m wildly jealous. You seem really happy.’

‘I am. Touching wood.’ She leans across to touch the mantelpiece. ‘You must be sad to leave your friends, no?’

‘I don’t want to live with newly-weds.’ I smile. ‘We were doing the table seating plan today and that was bad enough.’ I tell Eve how we sat for hours writing down the guests’ names on small coloured Post-it notes, and then tried to arrange them around imaginary tables. At one point Jonnie shouted and swore at Emma, telling her he didn’t want any of her ‘fucking psychology friends’ sat near him. Emma and I were speechless. Jonnie rarely loses his temper. Emma then fired back, telling him it was unfair for anyone to have to sit next to his parents. I was with her on that one, but thought I’d better not utter a word.

The doorbell rings again. ‘You must be Mark,’ I hear Emma say. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

Oh, Emma, I cringe. Why did you have to say that?

‘I can’t believe we haven’t met before,’ she blunders on. ‘Hello,’ she says to Jess.

Jess is wearing a sea-blue coloured satin top over jeans. She barely has any make-up on but her skin is flawless. Then I catch sight of Mark, and before I know it I’ve bolted upstairs and run into my bedroom, swinging the door shut. I don’t think he saw me. What was that all about, Katie? What’s wrong with me? I realize I have never felt this way about anyone before. I don’t know what to say or how to act in front of him any more. I don’t recognize myself. Keep calm, Katie, I tell myself, only to feel my face getting redder and hotter. ‘What’s meant to be is meant to be,’ I mutter. ‘You don’t really believe any of that rubbish, do you? Oh God, stop talking to yourself!’ I take in a deep breath and count to five, before willing myself to go back downstairs.

*

Bells stands at the CD player with Mark, The Beatles playing in the background. She holds a can of ginger beer towards him, her silver nails sparkling. Mark looks as if he has tumbled out of the washing machine. His hair is ruffled and he’s wearing dark jeans with a loose white shirt. He puts the can down and takes Bells’s hand. ‘Can’t dance very well,’ she’s saying.

‘Yes you can,’ Mark shouts above the music, turning her around.

‘You can’t take your eyes off him, can you?’ Emma says, sneaking up on me.

‘I was watching Bells.’

‘He looks at you too, you know.’

I turn to her. ‘Does he?’

‘A lot, but you don’t care, do you?’

‘No, no.’

‘Rubbish, Katie. This is me, Emma, your best friend. I know you inside out and back to front. You like him, I mean,
really like him
, don’t you?’

‘I can’t do anything about it, though,’ I sigh, still watching him.

Mark looks in my direction and smiles before turning back to Bells. ‘It stinks, doesn’t it? And there’s nothing I can do.’

‘What do you mean? Come on, you can do something.’

‘He has a girlfriend.’

She nods. ‘I know, but why don’t you tell him? Give yourself a chance, at least. What have you got to lose?’

I watch him laughing with Bells. ‘Everything,’ I say.

*

‘Katie?’ Mark says quietly, taking my hand and leading me out of the room. We stand alone, facing one another.

‘Yes?’ The music dies out.

‘There’s something I want to tell you.’

‘Tell me,’ I whisper.

‘I don’t know where to start.’ He looks at me, absorbing every feature of my face. His finger gently outlines the curve of my cheek.

‘What is it?’

He takes his hand away but I long for him to touch me again.

‘It’s all over between Jess and me. I think it has been for a long time. I’ve wanted to say this since we first met but I haven’t had the courage. I had to say something tonight; I can’t keep it a secret any longer. I am hopelessly …’ He stops. Please don’t stop.

‘Yes?’

‘And utterly …’

‘Where are you moving, Katie? Katie?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, shaking my head free of fantasy. Jess is standing in front of me. ‘Chiswick. I’ve found a small flat close to the shop. The rent’s not too bad and …’

‘Talking of moving, isn’t it wonderful news about Mark?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Mark? He’s been offered a transfer to Edinburgh.’

‘He’s moving away?’ I know Jess is watching me. I feel as if I am on stage, thrust into the limelight and I’ve forgotten my lines. ‘No, I didn’t know.’

Jess looks genuinely surprised. ‘Well, he only found out yesterday. I’m sure he was going to tell you.’ There is definitely a hint of pleasure in her voice. She stands back from me. ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t told you. I thought you saw him last night?’

‘When’s he going?’ Emma intervenes, allowing me to try and compose myself. I hadn’t even noticed her approaching us.

‘January. This new school has great drama facilities and he’d be involved in the Edinburgh Festival. It’s too good an opportunity to miss. I think it will be good for our relationship too,’ she continues in this soft calm voice, but she’s still watching me closely. ‘It’s hard being separated, I think Mark and I need to spend more time together.’

‘I heard my name being mentioned,’ Mark says, joining us.

‘Jess was telling me about your move to Edinburgh,’ I tell him. ‘Congratulations.’

Mark’s smile rapidly disappears. ‘Jess, it was my news to tell.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t realize it was a big secret,’ she says, her eyes widening.

Mark looks furious. ‘Jess, are you ready?’

She frowns. ‘What? Right now?’

‘Yep. We need to go.’

‘Fine. I’ll get my coat.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask him, when Jess is out of earshot.

‘I’ve only just made the decision,’ he tries to explain. ‘I was going to …’

‘I wish you had,’ I say quietly.

‘Katie, I’m so sorry.’

I fake a smile. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too.’

I’m sure he wants to say something more. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he mutters finally, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek. I can hear Jess’s footsteps behind me.

And then he’s gone.