Authors: Ross Turner
“No…” Her younger sister replied quickly. “I can’t…”
“You promised her.” Clare pointed out, and quite rightly so. “You promised you’d tell Mandy too. You can’t keep lying to them…”
“Please don’t tell them!” Jen almost begged her sister then, her voice pleading and desperate and stricken.
Clare pursed her lips and exhaled deeply, her glistening eyes sorrowful.
“You know I can’t tell them…”
And on those final, grief-stricken words, Jen did not reply, and turned instead back to her distraught gazing.
Clare joined her, sitting with her as she always did. But no matter how long the night wore on, nor how deeply the cold sunk into Jen's very bones, still Clare did not put her arm round her sister to warm her.
It wouldn't have made any difference.
She Who Interferes
“How did you sleep sweetheart?” Dyra asked her youngest daughter the following morning, an hour or so after sunrise had broken on the misty horizon over to the East.
In truth, Jen was groggy and stiff and sore, to say the very least. She had at some point crawled back inside her window during the night, but most definitely not before the cold had ruined her joints, and now her whole body ached.
“Yeah, fine.” She lied, naturally.
Taking a single bite of toast Jen stood up to take her plate to the sink, whilst her mother still hovered cautiously over her own unfinished breakfast.
“I thought you’d gone out again…” Dyra continued. “I came up to get you to tell you dinner was ready, but I couldn’t find you…”
“No…” Jen uttered, pausing at first as if there wasn’t anything else to follow. Eventually though, cautiously, she continued. “We were up on the roof…”
“Oh…I see…” Her mother concluded, her tone clearly disapproving. “You know I don’t like that, Jennifer…” She continued, her words cautionary. “It’s dangerous…”
Jen only sighed.
Yes, she knew her mother didn’t like it.
But, at the same time, her mother knew that she knew. And, in turn, Dyra also knew that she’d been going out onto the roof for months now.
Just, complicated as it was, neither of them wanted to argue the point.
Dyra let it drop, and instead drew a deep breath to introduce the tender subject that had been her original intention in the first place.
“Caroline’s coming over today…” She breached as gently as she could, though, it’s near impossible to be subtle when you’re using a battering ram.
Jen’s initial response was a look shot across the kitchen that mixed perfectly seriousness, disgust and despair all into one.
“Now…” Dyra attempted to salvage the situation before it got out of hand. “Please try to be polite…”
“Where’s she been now then!?” Jen suddenly exploded, all of her anger multiplying and escalating, completely out of control in an instant. “What’s she coming to show off this time!?”
“Please…” Her mother attempted, but her efforts were futile.
“She’s just coming to tell me how to live my life again!!” Jen blurted, tears streaming down her face all of a sudden.
“Jen!!” Dyra cried desperately.
But it was too late.
The damage was already done.
“NO!!” Jen yelled in a note of sheer finality. She fled the kitchen immediately, racing upstairs shaking uncontrollably.
Two flights of stairs later she huddled on the floor leaning against the chest of drawers in her bedroom, sobbing and gasping, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. It took quite some time for Jen to regain some semblance of composure, but luckily Dyra left her to it.
Having heard the commotion, Clare sat by Jen’s side the whole time, silent and unmoving.
Her mere presence was comforting, as Jen slowly managed to calm herself.
She had never really been all that emotional, and rarely succumbed to her feelings in such a dramatic way. But of late, for some reason, she had found it more and more difficult to contain her rushing and raging emotions.
Depression and anger and various other uncontrollable and immature feelings gripped her all too often nowadays, throwing her into a deep pit of suffering that, no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not climb out of.
Now, saying that, Caroline was not the most likeable of characters.
She was Dyra’s big sister, and in turn, made anything that was her baby sister’s business her own. That, unfortunately, included the ways in which Dyra raised her children, and she more often than not looked down her nose at them in the most obnoxious manner possible.
Revelling in her own success, if you could call it that, she was, in a phrase, a stuck up cow.
Married three times and then in turn divorced three times, the main quality that she sought in men was money. Consequently, out of her three marriages, she had made herself a small fortune, claiming all sorts of absurdities that quite simply weren’t true.
She had two children of her own, neither of whom she ever made any attempt to see, and she only ever came to visit her baby sister Dyra to gloat about her latest holiday, and to see if Jen had sorted her life out yet.
Cruel as that all might sound, that was, in a nutshell, Caroline.
However, it made no odds.
She was on her way, and that was that.
It was several hours later, once Jen had had ample time to gather her emotions, and to allow for the joy of it all to sink in, that Caroline eventually pulled up outside Keepers Cottage.
Of course, as was relatively standard, she was driving a brand new BMW: a shiny new blue with all the bells and whistles.
Jen twitched with barely concealed frustration.
Despite her mother’s best efforts, Jen wore a plain T-shirt over her scrawny frame, and loose fitting jeans.
“Try to relax, Jenny.” Clare advised quietly as the click clack of Caroline’s heels up the pathway to their door announced her imminent arrival. “And try not to slap her…” She added, grinning eagerly.
“Thanks…” Jen whispered back dryly.
Clare was wearing a light blue dress with floral orange patterns splashed across it.
As always, she looked lovely.
Suddenly their front door burst open and Caroline swept inside with arms flailing and tones wailing.
Jen couldn’t help but hold back a snigger as her aunt appeared. She always wore a big fur coat, regardless of the weather, heels of at least six inches, and bangles all up her wrists.
The sight always for some reason made Jen think of Cruella de Vil, and Clare too concealed a smirk, knowing exactly what her younger sister was thinking.
“My darling baby sister!” Caroline exclaimed dramatically, exaggerating her entrance as theatrically as humanly possible, and extending her arms immediately out to Dyra.
Shopping bags hung off her wrists, as they always did, and her bangles clattered and jangled obnoxiously.
“Hello Caroline.” Jen’s mother replied stiffly, embracing her sister reluctantly. Her big sister would have none of it however, and flung her arms about Dyra and gasped melodramatically.
“Oh! It’s been far too long!” She cried.
Jen winced and cringed visibly, and Clare stifled another snigger.
Caroline turned to Jen and her eyes seemed to narrow warily and suspiciously, though the action seemed subconscious.
There was no over the top greeting to follow; she simply looked Dyra’s youngest daughter up and down in what appeared to be the most critical and judgemental manner possible.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight, Jennifer.” Were the first words to pass Caroline’s lips, rolling off her tongue with easy distaste and disapproval. “You look like you need a good meal.”
Jen had expected nothing less and, much to Caroline’s displeasure, didn’t bite.
“Hello Caroline.” She replied, though her voice simply dripped with undisguised loathing.
“Aren’t you feeding her, Dyra?” Caroline questioned her baby sister then, glancing back around.
“Erm…Jen…” Dyra started, not knowing quite what to say. “Jen’s fine…” She concluded lamely, and Caroline just sniffed in response and pulled two of the shopping bags hung on her arm into one hand, and held them out to her ungrateful niece.
“I’ve brought you gifts.” She announced, very formally, dropping the bags unceremoniously at Jen’s feet.
Her long, false nails caught on the string at the last moment and the bags toppled to one side on the floor, with what sounded like a distinct crack.
“Why, thank you.” Jen replied coldly, making no attempt to pick them up.
Caroline flicked her long, dyed blonde hair out of her face, revealing the full extent of her awful fake eyelashes and tan, which seemed to radiate a sickly orange rather than brown.
Very classy.
Jen’s expression, however, was growing darker by the moment, and her mother sensed the danger as it encroached.
“Why don’t we…” Dyra attempted to intervene, hoping to cut off the arrivals before bloodshed ensued.
Unfortunately, she failed.
“Have you brought anything for Clare, Caroline?” Jen asked then, her voice piercing the air like a knife coated in poisonous venom.
Her aunt looked down at her quite seriously then, puffing up her own self-importance, and replied in a tone that made Jen’s blood boil and seethe.
“No, Jen, don’t be absurd. Of course I haven’t.” She replied bluntly, sneering as she spoke.
That was it.
Caroline had been there all of about two minutes, and already Jen was ready to explode.
She felt her rage building inside of her, and it swelled and rose and multiplied so fast and in such a charging rush that she felt as if she was going to burst: her emotions completely out of control.
“Don’t do it Jenny…” Clare warned then, sighing regretfully and looking between her younger sister and their horrible aunt.
Jen paused, stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Silence hung for a moment before Clare spoke again.
“She isn’t worth it…”
Jen’s dreadful, uncontrollable wrath caught on the tip of her tongue, concealed within a single breath, and with seemingly inhuman self-control, at her sister’s will, she swallowed it down, burying it deep inside.
Without another word Jen turned for the front door and departed.
“And where do you think…” Caroline began, but Jen didn’t hear her finish, for she slammed the door tremendously behind her and headed immediately down the garden and out onto the road, turning instinctively towards the beach.
“Jen?” A voice suddenly called, startling her in her rage.
Jen looked up and, completely out of the blue, Mandy appeared, catching her totally off guard.
“Oh, erm…I…Mandy…” Was all she managed, tripping over herself repeatedly, and her quickly dissipating fury was thrown completely.
Jen’s emotions were up and down like a rollercoaster.
“Is everything alright?” Mandy asked. Concern was evident in her soft voice, always so gentle and thoughtful.
Her sleek, black hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and her brown eyes were somehow all seeing, as if every time Jen looked into them they gazed right into her very soul.
She liked Mandy, but that was one of the reasons Jen always dreaded her visits.
One of them.
“Erm, yes…I’m fine, thank you…” Jen managed to reply, still stumbling over her tongue and shaking slightly.
Mandy was not convinced.
“What’s happened?” She asked immediately, glancing over her glasses that were perched delicately on her nose, looking briefly between Jen and the front door to Keepers Cottage.
Mandy had quite a pale complexion, but not so that she looked ill. The aura that she held was most definitely one of professionalism and assertiveness, tinged with a generous helping of care and understanding: a rather unusual mix of qualities that most certainly made her stand out, and in fact made her absurdly attractive.
She wore black trousers, smart dress shoes and a white blouse, partly covered by a cardigan that stretched halfway down her arms and pulled in at her petite waist. Clutched at her generous breast, between folded arms, she held her black portfolio case that she always carried with her when making her visits.
“Oh, nothing…” Jen lied, though very badly this time, and Mandy looked at her reproachfully.
“Jen…” She said calmly then, tilting her head forward slightly, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips thoughtfully.
Jen sighed.
Of course, it was no use lying to her.
“Caroline’s here…” She admitted, as if that explained everything.
“Ah…” Mandy replied, suddenly understanding, for indeed that scrap of knowledge did in fact explain an awful lot.
Jen sighed, and Mandy looked at the poor girl, only six years or so younger than herself, in a way that spoke volumes of compassion for what she had been through, and in fact was still going through.
“Your mom phoned me yesterday to say you had to work…” She noted then, changing the subject as smoothly as she could. “But I was coming past today anyway, and so I thought I’d pop by to see how you are…”
“Thank you.” Jen replied automatically. “Yeah, sorry, I had to work.”
“Don’t be silly! Don’t apologise!” Mandy laughed then. “Are you still enjoying things at The Rusty Oak?”
“Yeah…” Jen replied elusively, glancing down at the ground.