So much to discuss? That was code for: I’m checking up on you.
Laura had had to fight Jess for a share of the to-do list and now she was going to have to prove she was actually doing it (tricky when, for the most part, she wasn’t). ‘Come in,’ she said, trying not to mind that the flat was even messier than usual. The coat stand had collapsed again, which meant there were coats and hats and umbrellas all over the hall floor, along with the ever-growing mass of footwear. And she was pretty sure last night’s pizza boxes were still out on the kitchen counters.
‘Shall we play hide and seek?’ Billy said to Lola and Hannah.
The girls exchanged a look of amazement at being asked to take part in such a childish pursuit but then said yes, that would be lovely.
In the kitchen, Laura cleared a pile of washing off the chair so Jess could sit down. ‘I’ve been working today,’ Laura said, hating herself for feeling the need to apologize. ‘I had to do my Dear Laura column.’
Jess nodded. As usual, she looked immaculate in a hot-pink satin slip skirt with a red slogan T shirt, freshly blow-dried hair and the type of no-make-up make-up that takes forever. Laura supposed she had to make an effort since it was part of her job – and it still seemed weird to call it that – as a fashion blogger. She remembered her mum telling her Jess was going to give up her job as a management consultant to make StyleMaven a full-time pursuit. Laura’s first thought had been: Why writing? Writing is my thing. It reminded her of a summer when she was nine years old and obsessed with making papier mâché animals. Then Jess had breezed in and made a perfect pig and Laura never picked up the PVA glue again. Over the years, her antipathy towards Jess’ new career had grown. Everyone knew that the rise in popularity of digital influencers had been a huge factor in the demise of women’s magazines, so it was difficult for Laura not to feel like a vegan whose sibling had suddenly decided to open a slaughterhouse.
‘So which of the world’s problems was Dear Laura solving today?’ Jess asked.
Laura’s shoulders tensed. Was Jess being snarky, or was she just making conversation? So much distance had built up between them over the years that Laura often found her sister hard to read. She decided to take the question at face value. ‘Oh, interfering mothers-in-law, loneliness, office romances – the usual sort of stuff. Luckily, I didn’t have any adulterers to deal with today. I often do, and I find it a bit hard to dish out sympathy.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t be an agony aunt if you can’t be sympathetic,’ Jess snapped.
Laura spun around. ‘Excuse me?’
Jess shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ she said, sounding anything but. ‘I was just trying to make the point that nothing in life is black and white. That, of course, affairs are terrible – everyone knows that – but it doesn’t mean that everyone who has one is beyond the pale.’
Laura’s brow scrunched. This was the second time Jess had snapped at her in a matter of days (maybe this was the new her? Bossy, controlling and short tempered.)
Also, it seemed extremely odd for her sister, Little Miss Perfect, to be putting up a defence for adulterers. Jess was no doubt just mouthing words she thought sounded ‘woke’ and Instagram-worthy. It made Laura sick. She’d had two boyfriends who were cheats and she could still remember how it had destroyed her. In a matter of seconds, all trust had evaporated, years of good memories had been rendered fake and she’d had to live with the stark realization that she wasn’t enough. One of the many reasons she loved Jon was because, despite his laid-back take on life, he’d told her very early on that he believed unequivocally in monogamy (her mother and her sister might be quick to brand her an ‘idiot’ when it came to Jon, but they just didn’t know him like she did).
Laura looked at her sister, oblivious and smug, and was so tempted to tell her that she had no idea what it felt like to be cheated on, that not everyone had a perfect marriage like hers, and not to gob-off about things she knew nothing about. But today she simply couldn’t face the fight. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘That would be nice,’ Jess said. ‘Have you got any green?’
Laura made a face.
‘Builders’ will be fine.’ Like she was doing Laura some kind of massive favour.
Laura filled the kettle, Jess’ words still reverberating around her head: Maybe you shouldn’t be an agony aunt. Laura threw a couple of teabags into some mugs and poked at them angrily with a teaspoon before sloshing in some milk.
She was just wondering if maybe she should have said something after all when she turned back round to discover that her sister had started to cry.
‘Hey,’ Laura said, setting the tea down. She knew she probably ought to give Jess a hug, but as they didn’t really have a ‘huggy’ type of relationship, settled for roughly patting her on the arm as if she was trying to keep to some sort of unheard beat.
‘I’m being silly,’ Jess said, pulling a tissue out of her handbag. ‘We knew this was coming. Also, she was kind of a nightmare.’
Laura made a face. ‘Yes, but she was our nightmare. And you only get one mum.’
This set Jess off on a fresh wave of crying. ‘Sorry,’ she said eventually.
Laura squeezed Jess’ arm, feeling guilty about her own lack of tears. Earlier she had helped Billy with his homework, which was to fill in his family tree, and she had got a teeny bit tearful as she dug out photos of her mum and dad and was struck by the realization that she was no longer anyone’s child – but only a teeny bit tearful.
What was wrong with her?
Jess was crying and she was normally relentlessly positive – the type of person who posted endless ‘inspirational’ quotes on Instagram. (Laura’s idea of an inspirational quote was the one she had as her screensaver at work: Don’t talk to me until I’ve had coffee. And you’ve developed a personality.)
‘I wish I didn’t remember Mum like she was at the end,’ Jess said. ‘I hate thinking about how she was in the last couple of months. I want to remember her as strong and vital. I want to think of her racing around at a thousand miles an hour and making me laugh. I even want to think of her being bloody infuriating.’
Laura nodded; she knew what Jess was talking about. Recently it had been the husk of her mother lying in that bed, albeit one who could occasionally still make a joke that was just the right side of dark (‘This cancer will be the death of me’). But Laura also knew she hadn’t experienced their mother’s demise as intimately as Jess had. One day she’d arrived at the hospice and asked Jess why her clothes were damp. Jess explained she’d had to get in the shower with Evie to help her. Laura had felt a rush of sympathy and guilt. No one should have to wash their mother’s bottom. But there was also a touch of envy. Maybe the hard bits were a price worth paying for a lifetime of being the chosen one.
Once, one of her mother’s doctors had expressed surprise upon meeting Laura: ‘I didn’t know your mum had two daughters.’
I’ve tried to get more involved, Laura wanted to shout (had she? How hard?) but my sister always muscles in telling me I’m doing it all wrong. Mum doesn’t like that dressing gown because it’s itchy, we’ve already tried audiobooks, don’t try to move her like that.