Letters From My Sister (22 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Bells and I are catching the train home together for Christmas. The day after the party I moved into my new flat with the help of Emma and Jonnie. It was strange leaving. It was like facing my first day at boarding school when we unpacked the boxes.

My mobile rings and Mark’s name appears in the screen.

‘Are you still in London?’

‘No, Bells and I are on the train.’

‘The choo-choo,’ Bells announces.

‘Katie, look I’m sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No, it does. You’re a good friend …’

There’s that word I hate. Friend.

‘Well done,’ I speak over him. ‘A book deal and now Edinburgh. What a year!’

‘Katie, I really need to talk to you.’

‘That Mark?’ Bells asks. ‘Hello, Mark.’

‘Hi, Bells,’ he says in a flustered tone. ‘Katie, it’s about the other night …’

Bells takes the phone from me. ‘Happy birthday, Mark.’

‘It’s not my birthday, Bells, not yet, but thanks anyway. Can I have Katie back?’

‘When are you leaving?’ For an insane second I allow myself to imagine he’s going to tell me he isn’t going.

‘Two weeks.’ The line crackles as the train goes through a tunnel. Mark is saying something but I can’t make it out.

I fight the urge not to cry. ‘Mark, I’ll see you in the New Year. And it’s great news.’ I swallow hard.

‘Hello, Mark,’ Bells repeats. ‘Happy birthday.’

He doesn’t say anything back to her this time. ‘You’re coming to my birthday party, Katie, aren’t you?’

The line goes dead.

*

Christmas is good fun and I stay on for New Year. I have never seen the New Year in with my parents and Bells – well, not since I was about twelve – so this one feels important.

On New Year’s Eve, Aunt Agnes joins us, bringing homemade crackers. Agnes is ten years older than my dad. She’s dressed in a fake fur coat and scarlet beret with scarlet lipstick to match, and is wearing a solid silver heart pendant that looks as if it came from an expensive Bond Street jeweller. We discover Aunt Agnes has met someone through setting up a fundraising scheme in the community to raise money for a children’s hospice. His name is Peter. Since Uncle Roger died two years ago she has lost at least two stone in weight. ‘Aunt Agnes, you look amazing,’ I tell her.

‘Thank you, darling,’ she says, eyelashes fluttering over her almond-shaped eyes.

‘What’s your secret?’

She smiles. ‘I don’t make homemade chips and Black Forest gâteau any more.’

We put on our paper hats, tell silly jokes and light indoor fireworks. Bells has a snake. It looks like a brown pill, but once lit turns into a black mamba. Mine is a cowboy smoking a cigarette which, when I light it, puffs out smoke. At the stroke of midnight we all drink to Mum’s health. Her cheeks look flushed from the alcohol and she’s getting emotional. Her hair is very short and soft, like fluff. She still covers it with her patterned silk scarves. Bells asks if she can look at the scar again; and Mum guides her hand across the back of her head. Bells touches it gently.

*

Mum, Dad, Bells and I are watching
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?
, the special New Year Celebrity Edition. It’s my last night at home before I head back to London.

‘I can’t believe this cretin is phoning a friend. It’s D, you fool!’ Dad says when the phone rings.

‘Maybe he’s phoning you, Dad,’ I suggest.

‘Darling, can you get that?’ Mum asks, her eyes glued to the screen.

Seconds later he comes back into the room. ‘It’s Mark.’ Dad hands me the phone and settles back in his seat.

I shove it back in his direction. ‘I’m not here,’ I mouth at him.

‘Mark, can she call you back?’ Dad puts the phone down. ‘I don’t like lying, Katie. Make sure you call him.’ His attention returns to the television.

‘Why don’t you want to talk to Mark?’ Mum asks.

I pretend not to hear.

‘Katie?’ Mum presses. ‘Has something happened?’

‘He’s moving,’ I tell her.

‘Unless your old father is missing anything, why is that so bad?’ Dad doesn’t look away from the television.

‘He’s going to Edinburgh.’

‘Hmm,’ Dad acknowledges. ‘You’ll miss him. He’s a very nice young chap. What’s he going to do in Edinburgh then?’

Parents never get it, I think to myself.

‘Oh, darling, do shut up,’ Mum says. ‘You’re getting the wrong end of the stick, as usual.’ She turns to me. ‘Look, I’m not blind. Something is going on here, more than Mark moving on,’ she says. ‘Why won’t you talk to him?’

‘I don’t feel like it, OK? I want to watch this.’

Mum sighs impatiently. ‘Come on, Katie.’

‘Fine,’ I give in, ‘I do like him, but what’s the point if he’s going away?’

‘Much worse things can happen. It’s not the end of the world, is it? It doesn’t mean you won’t see him again,’ she reasons.

‘I know, but … I’ve got so used to him being around, that’s all. I’ll really miss him. He’s my soul mate.’

Mum glances sideways at Dad, who sits in the large armchair wearing his leather slippers, squinting at the television.

We both smile. ‘He was attractive when he was younger,’ Mum whispers to me.

‘He’s asking the audience now, can you believe it?’ Dad says, outraged. ‘They won’t know!’

‘This must sound so …’ I can’t think of a word to use after everything Mum has been through, ‘. . . silly to you.’

‘No, darling. What’s silly is if you don’t tell him. When are you seeing him next?’

‘He’s having a party, tomorrow night. It’s in Battersea. His parents are going and everything.’

‘And you’re going too, aren’t you?’

I look unsure.

‘You love him?’ Bells asks. She’s lying on her front on the floor, leaning on her elbows, watching the television. I hadn’t been aware she was even listening because she had been so quiet.

‘No,’ I stammer, caught off-guard by her directness.

‘Stupid Katie.’

‘I’m not,’ I bite back, thinking I have not been called stupid since I was little.

‘Stupid, isn’t she, Mum?’

‘Stop calling me stupid,’ I gasp. Then I remember how I told Bells over and over again how stupid she was when she cut out the labels.

‘Do you love Mark?’ Mum asks.

‘What? You love Mark?’ Dad chips in now.

I bury my head in my hands.

‘Oh, darling, do keep up. I think you’re right, Bells,’ Mum says. ‘She’s stupid if she doesn’t tell him.’

They all look at me expectantly now.

‘How do I tell him? He’s going away. He has a girlfriend.’

Mum shrugs her shoulders. ‘What have you got to lose?’

‘My pride?’ I suggest.

‘Well, it is a risk, but you’ve got to ask yourself this question. Is Mark worth it?’

I think about this for a second. ‘Yes. I’ve never met anyone like him.’

‘Right, well, in that case, you have a large vodka, you go to the party, you walk over to him and be brave. You tell him exactly how you feel. If he’s in love with his girlfriend, you accept it and move on, but at least you had the courage to tell him. You only regret the things you don’t do, Katie.’

‘That’s right,’ Dad says now.

‘Maybe it wasn’t meant to be,’ I say in a final bid to spare myself from humiliation.

‘That’s the easy way out, only cowards say that,’ Mum says with a sniff.

*

Mum and I stand at the top of the stairs. We’re about to go to bed. ‘Buy yourself a new dress for the party,’ she says, touching my face. ‘Don’t wear black. Wear red,’ she insists. ‘It goes with your dark hair. And put your hair up.’

‘Anything else?’ I smile.

‘No, that’s it.’

We kiss on the cheek.

‘Thank you,’ I say, putting my arms around her. ‘I love you.’ It’s the first time I have said that to her since I was a child.

‘I love you too.’ It’s the first time she has told me since I was a child too. I feel a glow of warmth in her arms, something I realize has been lacking for years.

CHAPTER FORTY

‘If you knew the exact address it would help,’ the cab-driver says defensively. Of course he’s right, but I’m too flustered to apologize. I need to get to the party now. Not only have I forgotten the invitation, but also I was late arriving back in London because my train was delayed. It took me nearly three hours to get back to my flat.

Back to Mark. I can almost see the invitation with the address on it. Mark is having the party at a place I’ve never been to and I can’t remember the name of the venue. The invitation’s sitting on my bed. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

‘We’re going round in circles,’ I fret, looking at my watch again. It’s now nine o’clock. I’m over an hour late. I pick up my mobile and call Mark. It’s his voice-mail again. ‘Mark, I’m so sorry, I’m on my way, but …’ I hang up abruptly. ‘Wait!’ I tell the driver. ‘I think that’s it! We missed the turning. Turn around.’ I remember Mark telling me the venue was close to Battersea Bridge and the power station.

‘I can’t turn around here,’ the cabbie snorts, windscreen wipers going up a gear. The rain is pelting down now.

‘Do a U-turn.’ He keeps on driving. ‘I’ll tip you!’

He shakes his head as he wheel-spins and drives in the other direction.

*

I step into a large room filled with people but can hear only one person talking. It’s speech time already. This place is like an indoor conservatory, with green spidery plants, a fountain, and I’m standing in front of a statue of a lion. There are small candles lighting the misty room, giving it a warm glow.

A tall thin man with glasses stands next to Mark, who is wearing a faded blue shirt with a darker jacket. I beckon a waitress with a tray of drinks towards me and gratefully take a glass of champagne.

‘I promised my son not to go on too long and embarrass him tonight, but what I do want to say is how proud we are of him.’

Everyone ‘Aaahs’. Mark fidgets with his cuffs.

‘I’m not going to stand here and tell you how wonderful he is, nothing is more irritating than a proud parent. Don’t want to sound like those circular letters you receive at Christmas, relaying one triumph after another.’ Everyone laughs. ‘Mark broke the news over Christmas that he’s being posted to Edinburgh for a year. We are delighted, as he will be closer to us, and I would like to wish him all the best for the year ahead.’

Everyone cheers except me. Everything I have felt during the past week creeps back, the realization that he is actually leaving. People start to mingle again and I am determined to make my way over to Mark now otherwise I will never do it. I clutch the present in my hand.

‘Katie!’ I hear him call. Mark pushes his way through the crowd towards me. ‘How come you’re so late?’

‘Happy birthday.’ I gently brush his arm.

A pretty girl in a crushed velvet dress approaches Mark and they talk briefly, giving me time to breathe properly and compose myself. Finally he’s free to talk to me. ‘Why have you been ignoring my calls?’

Why do you think, Mark? Surely it’s not that hard to work out?

‘Here’s your present.’ I hand him the small parcel, wrapped in blue with a ribbon.

He appears completely uninterested in it. ‘Why are you late? Why bother to come at all?’

‘Mark, I’m here now.’

‘Well, it’s rude to turn up so late.’

I don’t tell him I forgot the invitation because I was too preoccupied buying my dress, which he hasn’t seemed to notice at all. ‘Mark, my train was delayed. I’m really sorry.’

‘I was worried something had happened, or you weren’t coming. You could have at least called me to say you were going to be late.’

‘I did, a few times. You didn’t pick up.’ I catch his mum walking towards us. I assume it’s his mother as she was standing next to his father just now. ‘Mark, I left a message.’

‘Mark, darling,’ she interrupts us. She has tinted copper highlights and is wearing a deep blue silk top that matches her eyes. She has a warm smile that is so familiar with that dimple.

‘Mum, this is Katie.’

‘Katie, how lovely you could make it. Mark was wondering where you were.’

He walks away.

I force myself to talk to his mother when all I want to do is follow him and apologize. I have hurt him. I should have returned his calls over Christmas. He deserves much more. He’s done so much for me and I can’t even turn up to his party on time and congratulate him properly. What a lousy friend.

‘It’s wonderful news about Mark going to Edinburgh, isn’t it?’

‘Wonderful,’ I repeat distractedly.

‘Edinburgh is such a vibrant city …’

I realize I am doing the very thing Mark and I curse people for doing at drinks parties. I’m looking over her shoulder to see where he is.

The tray of drinks is handed round again, and I swiftly take another glass.

Mark’s mother continues to talk to me, but all the time I am desperately hoping he will come back. I can see he’s getting pulled in every direction. Then I see Jess, dressed in a dark trouser suit with a bright pink lace camisole beneath. He talks to her briefly before another girl interrupts. Someone is clearly telling a funny story because everyone in the group is now laughing. I can’t slip into their circle to try and talk to Mark again. I’d be out of place. How can I tell him I love him? What was I thinking? At the same time, I can hear Mum’s voice over and over again.

*

‘Why don’t we share a taxi?’ one of the other guests suggests. I had just asked reception to call a cab for me. ‘I’m going in your direction so it makes sense.’

‘Fine.’ I turn round and see a tall man with smooth blonde hair. ‘If you’re sure?’

‘Of course. It should only be another ten minutes or so.’

‘I might wait outside,’ I say, ‘need a bit of fresh air.’ It’s raining quite heavily but I don’t care. Other guests are beginning to leave, walking out of the front doors, opening up their umbrellas and dodging puddles.

The man with blonde hair joins me and offers his jacket. ‘I’m Tom, by the way, and I think this is ours,’ he says with relief as a silver car pulls into the drive. I lean back into the comfortable padded seat. I am a coward. I didn’t say anything to Mark. I close my eyes, trying to block out the evening. Ten minutes later our cab driver beeps the horn so furiously I have to open my eyes to see what’s going on.

‘He didn’t indicate, the fool,’ Tom explains when I ask what happened. ‘So, how do you know Mark then?’

‘We were kind of neighbours,’ I reply flatly. That’s the simplest explanation. ‘You?’ I feel I have to ask.

‘We work together. We’re going to miss him when he leaves.’

‘Yes, me too.’

‘He deserves it, he works hard. I hope he gets some time to let his hair down, though. Edinburgh’s such a great place. He needs to really enjoy himself, meet someone and have a good time.’

I sit up. ‘Hang on. What did you say?’

‘Edinburgh’s such a …’

‘No, no, the last bit. You said he needs to meet someone?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But he has a girlfriend? Jess.’

Tom shakes his head. ‘He’s a dark horse when it comes to his personal life, but I know he’s split from her. She’s a gorgeous girl. Don’t know how he does it, that Mark,’ he chuckles to himself.

My heartbeat quickens. ‘Why did they split up?’

‘I think they both realized they were good friends but nothing more. It’s difficult when you’ve known someone for years and then you try and be more than mates. It’s a weird change. I did it and it was disastrous! We were much better off as friends. There was no chemistry between us, it was the strangest thing. You would think you’d have the best chemistry with someone you love and know so well, but I felt like a stale piece of bread when I was with her. Guess it doesn’t work like that.’

‘Tom, I’ve got to go back to the party.’

He turns to me in surprise. ‘Why?’

‘There’s no time to explain. Please, please,’ I beg.

‘Only when you tell me why.’

‘Just because.’ I hold my hands together as if in prayer. ‘Can you turn round? I
have
to go back,’ I tell our driver now.

The driver continues to speed along the road.

‘Stop the car then, I’ll walk!’

‘What’s up with her?’ the driver asks Tom.

‘Stop the car, now!’ I screech.

‘Please, when it’s safe, could you turn around?’ Tom asks politely. ‘We will tip you extra,’ he adds.

This seems to be my night for U-turns and extra tips. ‘Thank you, Tom.’ I plant a kiss on his cheek as we head back towards Battersea.

‘I should share cabs with girls more often.’ He smiles. ‘I have jet lag, you know, I want to go home.’

‘I’m really sorry, but I have to talk to Mark.’

He looks at me curiously. ‘And it can’t wait till morning? Well, I hope it’s important after all this.’

*

I run up the spiral stairs again, my clothes dripping water on the steps and my hair wet against my face. I can’t hear much noise, the party is definitely over. The caterers are washing up glasses and packing them back into brown boxes. Candles are being blown out, trays of food carried back to the kitchen. The only noise I can hear comes from the water fountain with cupids on either side. ‘Did you leave something behind?’ one of the waiters asks.

‘No, where’s Mark?’ I ask breathlessly.

‘I think he’s gone.’

No. He can’t have gone. Please tell me he hasn’t gone. I sit down by the fountain and catch my breath. I can’t believe it.

You only regret the things you don’t do.

I hear footsteps approaching me.

‘What are you doing here?’ He doesn’t wait for me to answer. ‘Did you leave something behind?’ There is an edge to his voice.

I’m so relieved to hear Mark’s voice, even if he is still in a bad mood. ‘No, I did not leave anything behind,’ I say firmly. The atmosphere is so tense that the caterers pretend to be absorbed in washing up the glasses and plates.

Mark walks over to the other side of the room and carries on packing his presents into boxes. He’s not looking at me. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had split up from Jess?’ I ask him.

‘Well, why do you think I was calling you?’

I acknowledge this. ‘I’m sorry, but …’

He interrupts me. ‘You’ve been acting so strangely since I told you about Edinburgh. You won’t let me talk to you about it.’

‘Well, I don’t want you to go, that’s why!’

‘I think I’ve worked that one out. So this is your way of telling me? By acting immature and not talking to me. I know you were at home when I called at New Year.’

‘All right,’ I concede, ‘I was watching Simon Cowell on
Millionaire
.’

Mark almost smiles. ‘But tonight? Turning up late and …’

‘Will you stop and listen to me? Leave your bloody presents alone.’

Finally he looks up. ‘Bells is right. You
are
a traffic warden.’

‘I don’t want you to go. Why would I? I’m happy for you, but Edinburgh … It might as well be Timbuktu. I hate the idea of not being near you. I got it all wrong,’ I admit, ‘I thought you were still with Jess, and now I’ve discovered you’re not, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me because …’ I stop. Have I said too much?

‘Carry on,’ he says.

‘I’ve realized how much you mean to me. I think I may even be …’

‘What?’

I can’t believe he’s making me say it. ‘I think I love you.’

There is a long silence and I know everyone in the room is listening. ‘I don’t think I love you,’ Mark says.

‘Oh,’ I say quietly. ‘Right.’

‘I don’t think I love you,’ he repeats, but then he moves forward and kisses me. This can’t be real. I have to pinch myself when we pull ourselves apart.

‘Guess what?’ Mark smiles. ‘I don’t think I love you because I know I do.’

And then the caterers clap.

*

‘Turnham Green, please,’ we tell the cab-driver.

‘You idiot.’ I push Mark’s arm. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d split from Jess? You could have written or told me when I was going home on the train.’

Mark puts a hand through his hair. ‘I know, but I had Bells in the background wishing me a happy birthday and then you wouldn’t listen. Besides, I hadn’t spoken to Jess yet and I wanted to see you.’

‘So I went through all of that agony for nothing. I was the one who had to say “I love you” first.’

‘I’m sorry, Katie, I should have finished with Jess a long time ago. We were trying too hard to make it work when in reality we were never more than friends. I knew how I felt about you after we went to the play together, but I didn’t know how to break it off with her. I’ve known Jess for over twenty years but that’s no reason to stay with someone.’

‘Is she all right? When did you tell her?’ I ask. I can’t imagine Mark leaving me.

‘Just after Christmas. She’s fine, I think. Deep down I know she realizes we’ve done the right thing. I mean, she came tonight, which says something, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, definitely. You’re old friends and that means a lot.’

We’re quiet for a moment, until Mark says, ‘I love your dress.’ It’s dark red and full-length, with cross-over straps at the back, Fifties-style. ‘I bought it specially,’ I say. ‘I didn’t think you’d noticed.’

He grabs my hand and kisses it. ‘You’d have to be blind not to notice. You’re beautiful, Katie.’

I smile. ‘Have you opened my present?’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s here.’ Slowly he unwraps the blue paper and I watch every line and expression on his face.

‘I can’t believe you found this.’

It’s an original copy of
The Adventures of Uncle Lubin
. I tracked one down on the internet.

‘So, Edinburgh. Do you think long-distance relationships work?’

‘This one will,’ he says, clutching the book. ‘You’ll come and stay as much as you can?’

‘What if you like it so much you want to stay for good?’

‘We can cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘If I do come and stay there’s one condition.’

‘What?’ He takes my hand.

‘There’s a spare room made up for Bells.’

Mark sinks back into the seat. ‘As it happens I’ve looked into that. I’ve already bought posters of the Beatles and David Beckham.’

‘And Stevie Wonder?’