Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
A fter a few glasses of wine and lashings of cake, I take Sally back home. She stares down at the coast from the café garden, a dusky evening of cloud-smudged stars, and sighs. ‘It really is nice here, isn’t it? I’ve never thought I could leave London, but I can definitely see the appeal…’
I gulp back a moment of dread that I’m not especially proud of. I’m sure she has no intention of actually moving here. It’s just a thing she’s saying, surely.
Once we’re back at the house, I grab extra blankets from the cupboard and make us both some cocoa. She looks a little wired, and I don’t think more wine is going to help with that.
‘So,’ I say, once she’s inspected the place and settled on the sofa, ‘what’s going on, Sal?’
‘What do you mean? And is it a problem? Am I not welcome?’
I recognise the tone. It means she’s looking for a fight, and I’m determined not to give her one. She tends to lash out when she feels threatened.
‘Always. You’re my sister and I love you. You can stay here for as long as you like. But I can tell there’s something wrong. Is it Ollie?’
She glares at me and snaps: ‘What do you mean, is it Ollie?’
‘I mean exactly what I asked. Don’t be like this, Sally. I’m on your side.’
She snorts, but then rubs her eyes with her balled-up fists. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I’m being a dick.’
‘That’s okay. I’m used to it.’
This at least makes her laugh and breaks down some of her resistance.
‘Yes, it’s Ollie,’ she says. ‘Of course it’s Ollie.
Things haven’t been good between us for a while.
He’s always working, or playing golf, or listening to bloody podcasts.
Seriously, I can’t remember what his head looks like without his earphones on.
We spend more time apart than we do together, and when we are together, all we seem to do is bicker.
It’s bearable with the girls around– they’re like a buffer zone I suppose– but they’re away on their school trip at the moment. ’
Plus, I can’t help thinking, before too long they will be leaving for university.
Libby’s applied to Oxford, and Lucy has her heart set on Edinburgh.
There has been talk of a gap year, but for Sally, that might be even worse.
What if they disappear to Cambodia or whatever?
I can’t see Libby doing that, but Lucy– definitely.
Them leaving is going to be a tough thing for Sally to adjust to.
With twins, you get double the work and then double the sorrow when they finally fly the nest. Add in marital problems, and that’s not a good spot to be in.
‘Do you think there’s someone else?’ I ask. ‘With Ollie?’
‘Not everybody cheats just because Will did, Sarah! And it’s not like you two were ever really close, was it?’
Ouch. That was below the belt, and I bite my tongue before I can come up with a retort. I was never an especially confident person, but after Will’s repeated infidelities, I was even lower on self-belief. It’s not fair of Sally to trivialise it, but I will give her a pass because she’s so upset.
‘Okay. I’m sorry. What do you think the problem is, then?’
She sips her cocoa, and I see tears shining in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry again, Sarah. I shouldn’t have said that.
And yes, I’ve wondered if there’s someone else, of course I have.
I think I would even understand that– God knows I’ve been tempted myself.
The longest conversations we have these days are about the girls, and I can’t actually remember the last time we had sex…
It’s like he’s just switched off. He finds strangers on the internet talking about hip replacements more interesting than me! ’
This is indeed a damning indictment, even for an orthopaedic surgeon.
‘I just needed to get away for a bit,’ she continues, swiping at her eyes like she’s angry with herself.
Knowing Sally, she probably is, for being what she will perceive as weak.
‘The house feels so empty because the girls are away, and he is barely there, and when he is it’s like I don’t exist…
Oh God, Sarah, what if we end up like Mum and Dad?
Staying together even though we hate each other? ’
The weight of that hits me, and I can see how scared she is by the idea.
I don’t blame her. It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to understand that is one of the reasons I’ve avoided relationships.
As ever, Sally and I responded differently to our childhood issues– she threw herself into marriage and motherhood almost defiantly, determined to make a happy home.
So far, she’s made it work, whereas I withdrew after my first attempt. Possibly even before then.
‘You won’t,’ I say firmly, reaching out to hold her hand. ‘Never. The very fact that you’re asking that question shows you won’t. Mum and Dad are… well, they’re a special case. I promise you, if I ever think you’re heading in that direction, I’ll hire you a divorce lawyer myself!’
She laughs a little and shakes her head. ‘Thank you. I bet you would as well. He’s not evil or anything, and I know I’m probably overreacting, but everything feels so… grey. Maybe it’s the bloody menopause too. I don’t like it so far.’
‘I don’t think many women do. You’re a doctor. Can’t you get your hands on some good drugs?’
‘I might look into it,’ she agrees. ‘I’ve always resisted the idea, which is really stupid when there is help out there. I suppose I thought I’d just wing it through sheer force of personality. Turns out that mood swings and hot flushes turn me into a bit of a bitch.’
‘Even more of one?’
She throws a cushion at me and laughs properly. Progress.
‘Don’t bite my head off, Sal, but have you tried talking to Ollie about this? Not fighting or whatever, but just sitting down and explaining how you’re feeling? Being honest?’
I’ve been experimenting with this technique recently.
Aidan has responded to it, and I’ve felt better for not lying all the time.
The irony is not lost on me, as I look at my poor sister and her sore eyes.
I need to tell her the truth, I think. I need to tell her that Aidan and I are not a couple.
Not just fudge it and say we’re splitting up, but confess the whole silly scheme. If nothing else, it will amuse her.
I’m about to do exactly that when she replies to my question.
‘Sarah, I appreciate having somewhere to stay for a few days, but really, why would I take relationship advice from you? You have no idea what it’s like to be married for over two decades, or the pressures of being a parent.
You might be loved up right now, but based on your track record, it’s not likely to last, is it?
Do me a favour and don’t try to fix me, all right? ’
I stare at her, and feel my irritation levels rising.
This roller coaster is starting to exhaust me: snark, apologise, snark, on repeat.
Yes, she’s upset. Yes, I love her. And also yes, I have wanted to throttle her many times during my life.
Right now, I can just about restrain myself from manual strangulation, but I can’t quite bring myself to tell her the truth about Aidan either.
I hate the fact that she thinks she has me boxed off, firmly in the ‘rubbish with relationships’ category.
Even if she probably is right, I hate it.
Nobody likes being written off, do they?
‘Okay,’ I say simply, forcing myself not to let this escalate. ‘Whatever you need, sis. I’ve got a fold-out sofa bed in my office, will that be okay for you? Or would you prefer the couch?’
She stretches out, and tests how long it is before confirming that she’ll go for the fold-out.
That isn’t especially convenient for me, because it is, you know, my office, where I do my work.
My work, obviously, has never been as important as hers.
Which it kind of isn’t, because she can save lives and I just create fictional ones, but it’s still annoying.
She’s proud of me, while at the same time always slightly disparaging about it.
Crikey. This is going to be a real exercise in self-restraint.
I tell her I have to sort a few things out, and head upstairs. As I go, I remember something I need to tell her.
‘Sally!’ I shout back down. ‘If you’ve got antihistamines with you, you’d better take one. I have an occasional cat visitor.’
Sally loves dogs and cats, but is very allergic to the latter. I hear her groan and root about in her bag. The part of me that is still thirteen secretly hopes that she wakes up with Tinkerbell sitting on her chest and her eyes streaming.
The first thing I do when I get upstairs is call Aidan. It goes straight to voicemail, but the reception out in his little corner of Dorset is hit and miss at best, especially if he’s out in the woods. I message him instead, knowing he’ll pick it up later.
Thanks for rescuing Sally! I had no clue she was coming. She’ll be here for at least tonight, possibly the rest of the week.
I leave it at that and set about relocating my laptop and all essential notepads into my bedroom.
I’ve only just started plotting, so the big corkboard is currently empty.
I fold out the sofa bed and find fresh sheets from the airing cupboard, as well as an extra pillow– Sally always likes an extra pillow.
I move the desk lamp onto the little table that is next to the bed, so she can switch it on and off without moving, then close the curtains.
I light my sea-salt and rosemary scented candle, carefully placing it to avoid burning the house down, and pop fresh towels on the desk.
There, I think, standing back. It’s about as cosy and nice as I can get it without having had any notice.
I’d give myself a million stars on Tripadvisor.
I’m about to go back downstairs when Aidan calls. I scoot along to my own room and shut the door, whispering hello as I do.
‘Sorry, I was feeding the hellhounds,’ he says. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, all good. She’s downstairs, fifty per cent drunk, fifty per cent sad, and one hundred per cent annoying.’
He laughs, and my heart trips a little as I imagine him leaning against his kitchen counter, dogs milling around, making himself some dinner. I really wish I was there with him.
‘Sisters, huh? Has she said why she turned up like that?’
‘Not in detail. I think she just needed a time out. She was under a lot of pressure in the run-up to the party, and the twins are away in Greece. She was seeking refuge away from her own life, I think.’
‘Well,’ he says, one of the pack baying in the background, ‘we’ve all been there, right? What do you want to do about us? I kept up the act earlier, but I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing or not. Do you still need me to be your fictional boy toy or not?’
‘Boy toy? That’s a terrible term! And… um… I couldn’t ask that of you. Not after I?—’
‘Brutally rejected me and broke my poor heart?’
His tone is joking, but I also know that I did hurt him, and I hate that. He’s done nothing to deserve it. ‘Did I really?’
‘Well, you definitely put a dent in it, Sarah, not gonna lie. And look, I don’t mind if you don’t. If she’s only here for a night, then no stress. If it’s longer, I’ll call round and serenade you in the street or something. Naked, with a red rose between my… lips.’
I laugh at the image and reply: ‘Well, let’s see how it goes. And thank you.’
I say goodnight and hang up, then sit on the edge of my bed for a few moments. My cheeks are on fire and my mind has disappeared into a place that is very much not the friend zone.
I’m still picturing Aidan naked when my sister screeches up the stairs: ‘Sarah! How do you get the bloody telly to work?’
Duty calls.