Chapter 1 #2
‘Quit with the dramatics.’ Elena climbed onto the cabinet, the only piece of furniture not removed from the room to allow Luisa space to be creative. ‘I’m not about to get sentimental over a set of curtains.’ She looked at Sofia. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘I have no plan.’ Sofia gave Elena an exasperated look. ‘Catching pigeons is not my forte. I do not have RSPCA training. My ability to deal with rogue birds is non-existent.’
‘RSPB,’ Luisa corrected. ‘RSPCA deals with animals.’
Sofia bit her lip. ‘Are you going to throw something at her, or shall I?’
‘No one’s throwing anything at me,’ Luisa replied, perching on her artist’s stool. ‘I’m fragile. I have ailments. It’s discriminatory to throw things at the disabled. I have rights.’
Elena might have responded with a rude gesture, had Luisa not started coughing. A reminder that however infuriating she was, her health issues were very real. ‘Make yourself useful and turn off the lights.’
‘Err … why?’
‘The poor thing is traumatised. It has no idea how to get out, any more than we know how to capture it. Birds flock towards the light, if we open the window and turn off the lights, it might fly towards the window and free itself, saving us the stress of trying to grab it.’
Luisa went over to the light switch. ‘Who knew you were so knowledgeable about birds.’
Elena rolled her eyes. ‘I’m a woman of hidden talents.’
The lights went out.
Sofia lifted the sash window and climbed down from the chair, still managing to look stunning despite her dishevelled ponytail and flushed cheeks.
Sofia had inherited their father’s Latino characteristics, her dark skin was both flawless and luminous.
Along with her curvy figure, fluttery brown eyes and pouty mouth, it was a devastating combination, something her sister seemed oblivious to.
She never seemed to notice when someone did a double take or openly gawped at her.
Elena had never worked out whether her sister’s indifference to looking like a cover model was endearing or annoying.
The fact that she currently had bird shit on her blouse didn’t detract from her appeal, although it did smell.
‘I need to change.’ Sofia slipped her feet into her work courts, elevating her to almost five feet. ‘Expect a lecture,’ she said to Luisa, before marching over to the door and disappearing from the room.
Luisa looked puzzled. ‘What did I do?’
‘You made her worry for no good reason.’
‘Well, I didn’t mean to. … And what about the pigeon?’
‘We leave the pigeon alone.’ Elena padded over to the sink to wash her hands. ‘It’s more likely to fly out without an audience.’
‘What about my artwork? I need to finish my painting, I’m in the creative zone.’
‘Tough. I’m not spending another moment chasing down a pigeon.’ Elena dried her hands and put her trainers back on. ‘Besides, it’s lunchtime. Take a break. With any luck, by the time you’re done, the pigeon will be gone.’ She picked up the knife and held open the door. ‘Come on, Picasso. Let’s go.’
Pouting, Luisa removed the paint-splattered poncho and dramatically dragged herself from the stool. ‘If I must.’
Unlike Sofia, when Luisa pouted it was more petulant teenager than sexy siren, no doubt a result of being the youngest of three and mollycoddled since birth. Not that Elena begrudged her, Cystic Fibrosis was a cruel illness that dominated all of their lives. She was entitled to pout.
Luisa followed Elena down the wide staircase, past the family photos hanging on the walls, depicting a happy and loving unit.
A unit blown apart by death and absence.
It was still hard to accept how their lives had changed overnight.
One moment they were planning a family trip to Bogotá, the next they were arranging their mum’s funeral.
Three months down the line and it was still difficult to see a way out of the sadness.
Luisa nudged Elena’s shoulder. ‘Are you angry with me?’
‘Not angry. Frustrated.’
‘Because I can’t deal with wayward pigeons? I did try, but I got breathless and had to stop.’
Elena paused on the stairs, guilt overriding any grievance she might feel.
Luisa picked at her split nails, discoloured from excessive steroid use.
She looked so morose and her skin was paler than usual.
She had the same dark hair and brown eyes as her sisters, but her skin was lighter, her skinny frame more a result of her medical condition than genetics. ‘I hate being so limited.’
Elena’s heart pinched. ‘I know.’ She touched her sister’s arm. ‘And we don’t mind helping you. But maybe next time explain what the problem is, so we don’t have a heart attack trying to get home so fast.’
‘Fair enough.’ Luisa looked sheepish. ‘Sorry. The pigeon made me panicky. He had evil eyes.’
Elena leaned against the banister. ‘Evil eyes?’
‘Yeah, and a bad attitude.’
Elena couldn’t help grinning. ‘Are you being just a little dramatic?’
‘No, you weren’t there. He waited until I’d almost reached him every time before he flew off. That’s deliberately provocative, he was toying with me.’
Elena’s laugh faded when Luisa rubbed her chest. ‘Do your lungs need clearing? I have time before my afternoon appointments. I can give you physio, if you need it.’
‘I’m fine. It’s just another infection.’ Luisa walked off before Elena could react.
It took a moment before Elena recovered enough to chase her sister downstairs. ‘You have another infection? Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘It’s hardly shocking news. Infections are my thing.’
‘But you know how quickly things can deteriorate.’
Luisa raised her hand. ‘Stop fussing. I’m fine. It’s no big deal.’
Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one who constantly worried.
‘Are you taking antibiotics.’ They always had a supply in stock, along with masses of steroids and various drugs to help thin the mucus from her airways and enzymes to help her absorb fat and nutrients.
They had more medication in stock than Boots the Chemist. Luisa often joked that she’d make a great drug dealer—Breaking Bad comes to Notting Hill.
‘Of course I am. I’m not stupid.’ Luisa shook away Elena’s attempt to take her hand.
Sofia appeared from the kitchen, her hands on her hips. ‘Care to explain why there’s a man asleep on the sofa in the conservatory?’
Luisa shrugged. ‘I guess he hasn’t woken up yet?’ She sauntered into the open-plan living area as though it was no big deal.
Elena looked at Sofia with raised eyebrows. ‘There’s a man in our conservatory? Has he been there all night? I didn’t see him this morning.’
‘Neither did I.’ Sofia marched into the glass extension at the back of the house, Elena close behind. ‘And he’s minus his trousers.’
True enough, a trouser-less man wearing a designer polo shirt and ludicrous underpants was sprawled on the floral sofa, snoring gently, his mouth wide open.
Elena fanned her face and recoiled from the smell. ‘Jesus, he reeks of booze. Who is he?’
‘No idea.’ Luisa was curled up in the wingback armchair as though nothing was amiss. ‘Ryan. No … Bryan. Or was it Leon? I can’t remember. He’s some guy I hooked up with last night. We got wasted. Clearly a lightweight. No stamina, some men.’
Elena looked at her youngest sister. ‘Do you remember inviting him home?’
Luisa chewed her lip as if trying to remember. ‘Not exactly. It’s all a bit hazy.’
Elena pointed at her sister, before remembering she was still holding the bread knife and lowered her hand. ‘Do you need reminding of the dangers of bringing home strange men?’
Luisa pulled a face. ‘He’s not strange … well, apart from the Superman underpants, which, I agree, aren’t exactly a turn on. And he was far from super-human last night. From what I can remember, the whole thing was a bit of a disappointment.’ Luisa’s wrist went limp. ‘If you get my drift.’
Sofia folded her arms. ‘He could’ve robbed us, Luisa. Or worse.’
‘Hardly,’ Luisa scoffed. ‘Look at him, sleeping like a baby.’
The man made a loud snorting sound.
‘See?’ Luisa pointed at him as he clutched a silk pillow to his face, like a toddler clinging hold of a cuddly toy. ‘He’s a man-child. Nothing to be afraid of.’
Sofia shook head. ‘Looks can be deceiving. You’ve no idea what he’s capable of.’
‘I discovered what’s he’s not capable of,’ Luisa said, with a sigh. ‘And stop fussing. It’s not like I’d complain if either of you brought a bloke home.’
Sofia tugged the silk pillow away from the man’s grasp, making him grunt. ‘We’d never bring anyone home,’ she said, shaking dribble away from the delicate antique fabric.
Luisa lifted an eyebrow. ‘And that’s why you’re so uptight all the time. Maybe you should try it. Anyone would think you were ninety-seven, not twenty-seven. Live a little.’
The man snorted again, jolting as if his snoring had woken him.
Elena lifted the bread knife as a warning, ready to defend her sisters if he turned violent.
He grunted a few more times, rolled onto his back, and then rubbed his face, stirring from his semi-conscious state.
Elena stepped closer, Sofia did the same.
After several yawns, breaking wind and scratching his crotch, the man opened his eyes and slowly took in his surroundings, clearly confused as to where he was.
What he made of the collection of brightly-coloured Colombian artefacts, mixed in with the exposed wooden beams, rustic brickwork and quintessential English floral furnishings, she had no idea.
But his expression changed the moment his gaze landed on Sofia, his eyes widening at the sight of her standing over him with her hands on her hips.
‘Morning, sweetheart.’ His sleepy gaze focused on her breasts. ‘You’re even more gorgeous this morning than you were last night. I can’t believe I pulled a babe like you.’
Sofia’s eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t.’
‘That would be me.’ Luisa waved from the armchair, unperturbed by the man’s slight. ‘She’s way out of your league, mate. Don’t even think about it.’
The man did a double-take, looking uncomfortable as the events of the previous night caught up with his brain. His expression turned wary as he clocked the expression on Elena’s face and the bread knife in her hand. ‘You planning on using that?’
‘Depends.’ Elena stood her ground. He was right to be afraid. Very afraid, as Wednesday Addams would say. ‘Time to leave.’
Swallowing, he sat up and ran a hand through his messy hair. ‘Anyone seen my jeans?’
Sofia picked them up from the floor, holding them at arm’s length as though they were contaminated and threw them at him.
Elena gestured to the door. ‘And get a move on. You’ve outstayed your welcome.’
‘Any chance of a coffee before I go?’ He winked at Sofia as he shrugged into his jeans and fastened the fly.
Elena kicked his trainers towards him. ‘None whatsoever. Move it.’
The man had barely shoved his feet into his trainers before Elena and Sofia escorted him from the room like a couple of nightclub bouncers extracting a patron for bar fighting.
‘Do you want my number?’ he said to Sofia in a low voice.
‘No, she doesn’t!’ Luisa yelled, heaving herself up from the armchair. ‘And neither do I!’ With the flip of her middle finger, she headed for the kitchen. ‘I’d say thanks for a great night, but we both know that’d be a lie. More like Droopyman than Superman.’
The man flinched.
Elena and Sofia ushered him towards the front door.
‘Are you sure you don’t want my number?’ he said to Sofia, stepping over the threshold.
Sofia pretended to contemplate his offer. ‘Goodness, let me think. It’s tempting, wouldn’t you agree, Elena?’
‘Oh, I would.’ Elena leant against the doorframe. ‘He’s a catch, after all. Why wouldn’t you want a man who wears Superman underpants and hooked up with your sister last night?’
Sofia sighed. ‘It’s a dilemma, that’s for certain.’
The man looked between them. ‘You’re being sarcastic, right?’
‘What do you think?’ Elena slammed the door in his face. ‘Idiot.’
And Luisa wondered why they didn’t date. Elena’s bad experience with Felix hadn’t put her off love entirely, but she’d vowed to stay clear of uptight men in suits—and definitely immature idiots wearing children’s underwear.
Sofia headed for the kitchen. ‘What a charmer.’
Elena followed her. ‘A real peach.’
When they arrived in the kitchen, they pinned Luisa simultaneously with a loaded look.
Her sister seemed clueless as to the level of worry she caused them.
Added to the stress of running the house, grieving for their mum, and missing Papi, it was hard to hold it together some days. Luisa’s antics were not helping.
Luisa adopted a defensive stance. ‘Don’t look at me like that, you’re not my bloody parents. It’s no big deal.’
Elena shoved the bread knife back in its stand. ‘Luisa, you’ve just been telling me you’ve got a chest infection.’
‘So?’ She opened the freezer door and removed a tub of ice cream.
‘So, getting drunk and bringing home random men is not ideal.’
‘Why? I might die tomorrow.’ She opened a drawer and unearthed a spoon.
‘Unlike you two, I’m not prepared to waste what little time I have being all goody-two-shoes and doing nothing other than working and fretting.
Talk about dull. Some of us want to enjoy life.
’ Nudging the drawer shut with her hip, she flounced into the lounge.
Elena clenched her fists, resisting the urge to bang her forehead against the wooden countertop. ‘Did she really just say that? We’re working our bloody socks off, trying to pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads and look after her, and she has the cheek to accuse us of being dull?’
Sofia folded her arms. ‘And just when I was starting to feel bad for yelling at her.’