Chapter Three
Laura wasn’t quite sure why she’d agreed to have lunch with her sister. Because it seemed too churlish to say no when Jess suggested it? Because by that point Laura’s stomach was growling so loudly she assumed people in France might be able to hear it? Or because she couldn’t face being alone with her contradictory and scary mass of emotions?
She and Jess sat across the table from each other in awkward silence.
‘So, how’s Jon?’ Jess said.
Christ, her sister was annoying. The seemingly innocent question with its oh-so-glaring subtext: How’s that loser you live with? Is he managing to be supportive? He didn’t exactly get off to the best start by being in the pub when Mum was dying.
Laura was still smarting about a conversation she’d had with her mother a couple of months earlier. ‘Jess and I both think you’re an idiot when it comes to that man.’ The words had stung, of course, but what was even worse was the idea of the two of them talking about her behind her back – a witches’ coven.
‘Jon’s fine. He’s been fantastic.’
‘Good,’ Jess said.
Laura stared wistfully at a group of women a few tables away who were laughing loudly at something.
‘It’s weird to think Mum and Dad are both gone, isn’t it?’ Jess said.
‘Very.’ Laura’s mind flashed back to that day when she was twelve. Coming home from school, seeing Uncle James at the door and thinking it was nice that he’d come over – and on a weekday, too – but then looking at his face and knowing something was terribly wrong. Her mother on the couch. There had been an accident, their father was dead. The world tunnelling around Laura. Not being able to understand. An accident was when their little cousin peed his pants or someone broke a vase.
‘I guess we should decide what we want to eat,’ Jess said.
Laura picked up her menu. ‘I’m supposed to be on a diet,’ she said, more to herself than anyone else.
‘The grilled salmon is nice here,’ Jess said.
The waitress came over to take their order. She was wearing a lipstick that was almost black and said ‘perfect’ like a verbal tic. One Diet Coke and one sparkling water? Perfect. Some mixed olives? Perfect.
‘I’ll have the fishcakes, please,’ Laura said. Jess’ face dropped for a fraction of a second. She had ordered the grilled salmon and was no doubt perplexed by Laura not doing the same despite being told to. Laura could practically see a flashing neon thought bubble above her sister’s head: Thought you were supposed to be on a diet. ‘And chips,’ Laura added.
‘Perfect,’ the waitress said.
Laura glanced across at the table of laughing women. Maybe they wouldn’t think it was too weird if she joined them?
‘So I guess we’ll have the wake at my house?’ Jess said.
Laura felt her shoulders go rigid. Jess’ huge house in Clapham looked like houses do in magazine spreads, right down to the large bowl of lemons on the island unit that always made Laura wonder where all the normal fruit was kept and why there wasn’t a lone banana that was too ripe for anyone to eat but not yet overripe enough to be consigned to the compost bin. To say that Laura and Jess’ homes were different would have been to employ a powerful use of understatement. ‘We could have the wake in a pub or a restaurant?’ Neutral territory.
‘If you prefer. It’s just an additional expense though.’
‘Who’s having the fishcakes?’ the waitress asked, arriving with their food.
‘Me,’ Laura said.
‘Perfect.’
‘It probably wouldn’t cost much,’ Laura said.
‘Probably not,’ Jess said, taking a mouthful of salmon. ‘But, if we have it at my house, it won’t cost us anything.’
‘Fine.’
‘Look, if you really feel strongly about it …’
Jess always did this: bullied you into doing what she wanted and then suddenly came over all reasonable when it was too late. ‘I said it’s fine.’
The waitress reappeared. Was everything okay over here? They told her it was. Perfect. She beamed.
‘We need to sort through Mum’s things,’ Jess said.
Laura nodded. It was typical of her sister to be in a rush about something like this but, for once it suited her too. Since Jon had scaled back his shifts at the restaurant, they’d got into a bit of debt. ‘Yeah, we’ll want to get the flat sold as soon as possible.’
Jess speared a piece of broccoli. ‘Well, actually I’ve been thinking about that. The market isn’t great at the moment so I think it would make more sense to rent it out for a while.’
What? No! Not everyone had the big, fat financial cushion behind them that her sister did. ‘I don’t want to do that.’
Jess’ brow scrunched. ‘It makes much more sense financially.’ Her tone was so imperious and emphatic Laura wanted to slap her. ‘I don’t think we’re going to get loads for the flat at the best of times,’ Jess continued. ‘I know Mum had already borrowed a bit against the value: an equity release scheme.’
‘How much?’
Jess chewed thoughtfully. ‘No idea. The power of attorney still hadn’t been registered by the time Mum died so I never did get to help her sort out her finances.’
Laura was ashamed to find she took a small amount of pleasure from this. For all her brisk efficiency, Jess hadn’t managed to hurry along the Office of the Public Guardian.
Laura had been hurt when her mum announced that she wanted Jess to be her power of attorney. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Laura!’ Evie had said, noticing her starting to cry. ‘Don’t be so over-emotional. It’s just Jess is so much more financially savvy than you. Or me, for that matter.’
Laura knew she shouldn’t let it upset her. Or, indeed, surprise her. Her mother was always going to pick Jess. She was better with money (notwithstanding her husband’s big, fat salary). Also, Laura had spent her life on the bench. She took a mouthful of her fishcakes. They were cold in the middle and she knew she ought to send them back but she couldn’t face the conversation with the waitress: not perfect. ‘I want to sell the flat straight away.’
Jess put her head to one side. ‘Let’s decide once we’ve gone through all the financial stuff.’
She always had to be in charge. As though because she’d been born two years and a month earlier than Laura, it was her God-given right. ‘Fine,’ Laura said wearily.
A message flashed up on Jess’ phone screen and reflexively Laura glanced across.
‘Stop reading my messages,’ Jess snapped, snatching the phone off the table.
‘I’m not reading your stupid messages!’ Laura said. She was taken aback actually. Jess wasn’t normally like this. Bossy and controlling, yes, but short-fused not so much. What did she have to hide, anyway? Probably a series of lovey-dovey messages from Ben (they were the type for nauseating pet names).
There was an uncomfortable silence, which Jess broke. ‘Going back to the subject of the wake, I don’t think we need to go crazy in terms of food. But we do need to offer something because some people will have come a long way.’