Page 35 of Annabel and Her Sisters

We were quiet on the way home, the pair of us. We drove through the outskirts of Oxford in the filthy pick-up; I realized I was almost ankle-deep in litter: crisp packets, Twix wrappers, biscuit packets. After a bit, Clarissa cleared her throat.

‘Sorry,’ she said gruffly. ‘I should have spotted it.’

‘It’s OK.’ I glanced across at her, surprised. My sister never apologized. Her way of saying sorry was, ‘Are you in a better mood now?’

‘It’s been a fucking disaster, with me, hasn’t it? Another dog gone, and Mum dangerously ill without me even realizing. I’ll never forgive myself.’

This was huge. I put a hand on her arm. I felt her flinch, but also received a nod of appreciation at the gesture.

I didn’t go inside when we got to the farm.

I just got out of the car and said goodbye, then went to my own car.

I drove home, pensive. No radio, just my thoughts.

Because, you see, I wondered, I just wondered, if all that nonsense about Joan and Pammy, and everything else, which had patently been the UTI talking, was nonetheless relevant in some way.

I wondered, remotely, whether something had triggered a memory, something we didn’t know.

She’d seemed so… I don’t know… convinced, somehow, that she was back in a piece of the past I didn’t recognize. One that I had no idea about.

When I pulled up at the house, André was coming out of the front door and making his way down the path, heading for his car.

His head was bowed as he tapped away intently at his phone: tight jeans, tight blue T-shirt, slightly bulging arms. He saw me and smiled. Stopped and waited for me to get out.

‘The very person.’

I locked the car. Smiled. ‘Hi, André. I’m sorry I haven’t been here– my mother wasn’t well.’

‘Yes, Luke told me. Not to worry. I hope she’s OK?’

‘Much better, thank you. I gather you want me to check the bathroom mirror?’ Businesslike.

He looked surprised. ‘Well, yes. Just to make sure it’s where you want it.’ He stuck both hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels; he grinned. Very blue eyes. Tanned arms. ‘And also, to see if you were about next weekend?’

I took a deep breath. Was a pavement chuck– dump– OK? Was that in the rules? I decided it was.

‘André, I’m so sorry, but I’ve decided I’m not ready for this.

’ I had a vague idea ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ might be in the yoof script, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that.

Instead, I said, ‘I thought I was, but actually, the deeper I get, the more I’m not…

’ prepared to take my clothes off. In front of someone who looks like you.

And clearly goes to the gym, whereas I go to my computer with a dripping cup of coffee and toast and jam.

He looked a bit taken aback, but then took it in his stride.

‘That’s OK,’ he said, a tad too gently, actually, as if I was an aged aunt. ‘We don’t need to rush things.’ Ooh. A bit yucky. He knew what I was talking about. The clothes. Or lack of them. ‘We can take it slower.’

What could be slower than never even having kissed the guy? After– what– three dates? Must he persist? I felt myself go hot. Then I saw Luke, at the top window, glancing out. Oh God, why had I chosen the pavement?

‘I’m sorry, André, I just don’t want to take it at any pace at all.’

I turned and rushed into the house– the door was luckily on the latch– like an adolescent.

Immediately I spotted Grant, the electrician, down in the kitchen.

He was standing on a stool fiddling with the fuse box: clearly we were not quite so close to finishing the house.

So this was going to be beyond embarrassing.

I now had to coexist with a builder who I’d just– call it what you will– and who was still in my house.

Why hadn’t I waited until the job was finished, which was patently only a matter of days?

Weeks, at the most. The electrician smiled, shut the fuse box, got off the stool and disappeared back upstairs, just as Luke came down. He saw my face.

‘What’s up?’ I went quickly through to the kitchen. He followed and shut the door. ‘I thought Granny was OK?’

‘She is.’ And then, uncharacteristically, I leaned on the island and told Luke exactly what had happened outside. He narrowed his eyes over my head.

‘Not reading the room.’

‘Really?’ I was horrified.

‘Yes. You basically saying piss off, and him saying we’ll take it slowly.’

‘Oh! I thought you meant me.’

‘No, Mum, you made it quite clear.’

‘And it was OK, how I did it?’ I asked anxiously. ‘On the pavement?’

He shrugged. ‘Fifty ways to leave your lover and all that. Why not? And was he even a lover?’

‘ No! ’ I shrieked. Too loud. I covered my mouth in case he was still outside. I glanced around fearfully. ‘No,’ I whispered.

‘Well then, it’s fine.’ He filled the kettle at the sink and flicked the switch on. ‘I wouldn’t worry about him. Good to let him know now.’

I realized I was talking to the expert. Who better?

‘Yes– yes, that’s what I thought,’ I agreed eagerly. ‘And of course there’s Granny and everything.’

‘Well, that shouldn’t stop you having a life. Everyone’s got issues. You can’t hide behind them. There’s always going to be shit going down. Suck it up.’

‘Right.’ I almost rolled a cigarette as he was now doing, and I don’t even smoke. But I was definitely getting down with the kids. I was relieved Luke had agreed, though.

‘And don’t worry about him being around. His men will be here, but he’s only the foreman. He doesn’t need to be. And you can be out on the final inspection. I’ll do it. I’ll tell him you’re away. I was never really sure about him, anyway.’

‘Weren’t you?’ I looked at him, astonished. ‘Why?’

‘Dunno. Just a hunch.’ He finished making his coffee and made to go to the garden to smoke. But before he went, as he passed behind me, he gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. Lovely boy. Thank God he’d been here. He disappeared out of the back door.

So, I thought. André was gone– sort of– and my mother was better.

Two ticks, surely? In my box. I made myself a coffee and sat down on a stool at the island.

I was pretty sure I wouldn’t do any more work today.

The calendar on the wall caught my eye. On Friday there was an R.

Supper with Ralph, as I recalled. I found myself glancing away, quickly.

God, what was wrong with me? Had I lost my bottle completely?

Luke was right, I had to get a grip. There were always going to be issues.

There was always going to be– you know. Shit, going down.