The Sisterhood (36 page)

I opened cupboards, looking for flour and sugar and things like that. I knew Liz was watching me, so I started singing again. She didn't stop staring.

'Helen?' Liz asked, after a while.

'Mmm?'

'Tell me about Tom.'

After a few seconds, I realised that I was breathing too loudly. I was making little 'huh' sounds on the in breaths, so I made an effort to stop it.

'What is there to tell?' I asked, rhetorically. I smiled my big, starry smile. 'He's my little brother. Sometimes a pain, often my best friend.' I paused. 'A bit like you and Roberto,' I added.

I watched her reaction. She had not said anything to me about Roberto or Julie, and I was cross with her about that. I could see, though, that it was not easy for her to admit that she had got off with her brother. It was a horrible thing to have done.

'Where is he at the moment?' she said.

I snatched up my bag, and checked my phone was in there.

'Going out,' I trilled. 'Need to get ingredients.' I started jumping down the stairs before she could say anything. I sang 'Happiness', quite loudly, all the way down the street.

The Steve call had backfired. He and Liz were now, apparently, the best of friends. I half expected her to tell me they were falling in love all over again. Just as bad was the fact that Kathy had given her a mug, which, in Liz's eyes, made up for the fact that she'd told her to abort the baby. That part made me furious. I had put in a lot of groundwork with Sandrine, just to keep my bases covered, and it was extremely difficult to stay in character when I was talking French, because I always felt as if I was talking to my father. I had never thought I would need Sandrine, but now I was beginning to wonder whether there might be a way in which I could use her.

I was almost in despair. I tried to speak to Tom, but he wasn't answering. I looked around. He was probably lurking somewhere, watching me. I had no idea where he was staying, what he was doing. I knew he didn't want to talk to me now, because he knew I would persuade him that if we did this my way, things would work out better. I wondered how the dynamic had changed. Not long ago, he had done whatever I told him. Now he was calling the shots, and I was torn in two.

There was one big gamble I had decided to take today. It was a very, very long shot, but I thought there was a chance that I might have put the pieces together.

She sounded surprised. 'You're the
who?'
she asked. Her voice was softer than I'd remembered. I was briefly sorry to be doing this to her.

'CSA,' I said. 'The Child Support Agency.'

'And you want
who?'

I paused so I could pretend to consult a piece of paper. 'I want somebody called Ross McAndrew. Madam.'

'Well, there is no one of that name in this household, I'm afraid. Why do you want him?'

I was prim. 'I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge that information.' I was pleased with that. It sounded nice and official. It was what the woman at Liz's telephone banking had said to me a few days earlier.

'But you're the Child fucking Support people.'

'I'm sorry, I need to speak to Mr McAndrew.'

'Can you hold on one moment?'

She put the phone down with a clatter, then picked it up again.

'Yes?' said an aggressive voice. 'This is Ross McAndrew.'

'Mr McAndrew?' I said. I struggled with a giggle, successfully. 'I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, but it's concerning information we have that you have fathered a baby due to be born shortly. The baby's mother is a ...' Again, I pretended to be consulting my paperwork. 'A Ms Elizabeth Greene. She is concerned that you are not acknowledging the fact that you are the baby's father, and she wants us to make sure she gets financial support from you.'

There was a gasp, followed by a stream of violent swearing.

'I'm sorry,' I managed to say. 'I must ask you to modify your—' And I was cut off.

This, I sincerely hoped, would do the trick.

I wanted to see Matt, but I wasn't working, and he was, so I thought I should probably stay away. I longed to see him, but I was trying hard to be cool. I thought I might go round later in the evening, and see if he invited me upstairs. Meanwhile, I needed to stay away from Liz, or I was going to crumble and tell her everything.

Sandrine lived in south London, which was annoying, but I got there in the end. I buzzed three times before she answered.

'Yes!' she said.

'C'est Isabelle!'

She didn't say anything. After a few seconds, though, the door opened, and Sandrine stood before me, wearing denim shorts and a pink tunic. She looked slightly pissed off at my appearance, but I pretended not to notice that. It wasn't hard to persuade her to come out for a drink.

I knew I needed to tread carefully, to remember to be Isabelle. Everything was at a delicate point and if Helen and Isabelle were connected at this stage, it could all unravel. Part of me hoped that it would.

'There's a nice pub on the corner,' she said. She was looking at me a bit oddly, I thought. People did that. 'But I can only do one drink, OK? I've got a lot of marking to do. Lesson preparation. Coursework to sort out. You name it.'

'Of course. But a drink will help you relax as you do it.'

'You think?'

'Of course.'

Sandrine always seemed to treat me with a kind of aloof irony, but I didn't care. She had no idea why I was really there. I wasn't interested in her at all. That would have surprised her, if she'd known.

We talked about boring things for a while.

'What does your sister do?' she asked me. I was suspicious.

'I haven't got a sister,' I told her. I was quickly trying to work out why she was asking, whether she was on to me.

'I thought you said you did. Didn't you confuse me with Sandrine someone else, who was a friend of your sister's?'

'Um.' I chewed my lip. 'Er, no. The sister of my friend, that's what I said.'

'OK. Well, do you have a boyfriend?' she asked me.

'Yes!' I told her, relieved. 'I do! He's fantastic. He's called ...' I quickly tried to think of a name for him. 'Tom,' I said, then wished I hadn't. 'We went to an Indonesian restaurant. I didn't really like the food, though. It was too spicy.'

She laughed. 'How very French of you.'

I finished my wine and poured some more. I topped up Sandrine's, though she had hardly drunk a thing.

'Isn't it?' I said. 'So I said that next time we should go to a French restaurant, but he said they're boring, and then he spent about an hour telling me that the wonderful thing about London is the world cuisine. He said British food may have a bad reputation, but the fantastic thing about a multicultural society ... blah blah blah.'

'He's right, though.'

'I know. And I actually liked the chicken satay. I just wasn't keen on the main course. Nasi Goreng? Anyway, how's work? What's going on?' Before she could say anything, I said, as if it had just occurred to me, 'What about that nice woman, Kathy? The one I met that time?'

Sandrine nodded, and sipped her wine. 'Oh, Kathy. Thank God, she's doing well. She's made friends again with Liz — remember, I told you about her? So I'm not caught in the middle any more. Actually, it's great. I'm so pleased for Liz, because she's not having a good time at the moment, and now she's got Kathy back. She's got a bit more support.'

I was curious. 'Doesn't she have support at home?'

'Well, no, she's on her own and having a baby. She lives alone.'

'Does she?'

'Yes. Well, she's got a lodger, but she's a bit loopy by all accounts. She's only got her to pay the bills.'

'Doesn't she like her lodger?' I forced the words out. 'That seems a shame, to share your home with someone you don't like.'

'Oh, I think she likes her well enough. But she's young, and I suppose she's never going to fill the gap left by Steve. She's still incredibly cut up about that. She swears it's not his baby, but we all know that it is. She's just too proud to say so, because she doesn't want him to come back out of duty. Which I suspect he wouldn't do anyway.'

This was an interesting theory, but a wrong one. I wanted to hear more.

'Shall we get another bottle?' I asked. It was empty, and I was light-headed.

'What about some food?' Sandrine asked. 'You know, you're a terrible influence. I come out for one little drink before I do all my work. Now we've had a bottle and you're intent on getting some more. If you didn't know how to pick the good stuff off the wine list, I'd be at home with a red pen in my hand by now. As it is, I'm going to have to eat something, to absorb the wine.'

We both looked at the menu. It was crass; full of junk food and fried things. I was going to do much better food than this when I had my kitchen.

I knew that Sandrine wasn't at all drunk, because I knew that I'd had all the wine. I could tell that she just wanted food because she was greedy. I smiled tightly at her, and went to the bar, which I surveyed with a professional's eye.

'Well, hello,' said the barman. He was ugly, but I smiled.

'Hi, there,' I said. 'Another bottle of the French Sauvignon. And a chicken salad and chips. Cheers.'

I wasn't going to eat anything. I preferred to drink.

By the time I got home, Liz was in bed. I crept around the kitchen, looking for signs of anything that might have happened, but it all seemed normal. I could hear her snoring upstairs. My head spun, and I had to sit down for a moment while my stomach lurched. I recovered enough to pour a large glass of water and take it upstairs. I sat down on my bed, then jumped up. I reached the bathroom just in time, and was violently sick in the loo. The splashes went all over the floor.

I was relieved and annoyed. I still felt drunk, but it was better to have the vile liquid out of my stomach. Next door, I heard Liz stirring.

30 June

There were clouds scudding across the sky. I watched them from my sitting-room window. As I looked, Anna came out of her front door. She was pushing a big, old-fashioned pram. I watched her setting out for an early morning walk with her baby, and tried to work out what was happening. Mainly, I thought, I was losing my mind. I stood and stared, and she looked nervously up to my window. I raised my hand to wave, pathetically, but she looked quickly away. She seemed to stalk off. I could see from the slightly self-conscious way she was walking that she knew I was watching.

I was desperate to see baby Gabriella, but I didn't dare knock on their door again. I had racked my mind to work out what I could have done to merit this, but I couldn't think of a single thing. I hadn't talked about Anna to anyone. I hadn't done anything.

Strange things were happening. I was beginning to worry about Helen, and felt guilty that I wasn't looking after her enough. I was tempted to go and read her letters from her elusive brother, but I knew I shouldn't, and so far I was managing not to. Sandrine had said that French people all had the same handwriting, and that was all the explanation I needed. I vowed to be friendlier to her, because, more than she realised, it was Helen who kept me going.

I had the morning off, because of school exams. The baby was jumping around, and I patted it. That, at least, was a comfort. I thought of Steve and me, lying under a tree in the park. For a while, then, I had been all right again. He patted my bump and I revelled in the closeness. To passers-by, we had looked like a family.

Instead, I was on my own. Sandrine was going to be my birth partner, because I had no one else to ask. She lived on the other side of London. I knew I might end up with Helen holding my hand instead. A part of me liked the idea, but the rest of me knew she was not dependable enough.

She had come home late last night, and was noisily sick in the bathroom, then, I noticed, failed to clean it up. A vomity bathroom was, in a sense, the least of my worries, but all the same she was not really the person I wanted by my side as I gave birth.

When my mobile rang, I was still gazing, in a trance, at the black clouds. They filled the sky and, even indoors, the atmosphere was hot and sticky.

I answered it nervously, and then sighed with relief and sat down.

'Hi, Dad,' I said. He was the person I most wanted to hear from, in all the world. I had left him two messages, at work, and the fact that it had taken him three days to call me back did not bode well for my present status in the family.

'Lizzy.' He said it fondly, indulgently. No one else understood our relationship. Roberto thought he was boring. Everyone else thought we hardly spoke to each other, that we were distant and that, because I was motherless, I was pretty much an orphan. Only Dad and I knew the truth.

'How are things?' I asked. I took a deep breath, ready to fight my corner.

'Oh,' he said. 'Um. Well, as I think you know, there has been rather an upset.'

'What's happened? Are you at work?'

'I am. I got your messages and I was about to telephone you anyway. You see, Julie rather ran off. Roberto went to find her, on Sue's insistence. We haven't heard from either of them for a few days. Sue, I'm afraid, is getting rather frantic. Um, you haven't seen either of them, I suppose?'

'No, I haven't. I spoke to Julie a week ago.'

'Yes, I think we knew that.'

I couldn't bear this. 'Dad, this is ridiculous! It's stupid. Julie thinks there was something between Roberto and me, and there
just wasn't.
I have no idea where she got that text from or whether she was making it up. But it's not true. He's my brother. The very idea makes me sick. You know that, don't you?'

He sighed. When he spoke, he sounded relieved.

'Well, of course I do. And Sue does, too. Roberto seems to be alternately blaming you for apparently sending such an odd message, and Julie for refusing to believe him. He's not happy But you know that we would never believe such a thing.'

I took a few deep breaths. 'Yes,' I said. 'I do know that. Thank you.'

'However.'

'However what?'