He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
‘So, do you fancy going out for a drink or a bite to eat?’ she asks, touching his arm possessively.
The mention of drink makes my stomach churn in protest.
‘We have wine here,’ he says, going towards the kitchen.
‘No. I wanted to go out,’ she says sternly.
God, she’s demanding. I look over at him. He catches my eye and smiles. He must be thinking the same thing.
‘Ok.’ He turns to me apologetically. ‘Pops, do you mind if I leave you?’
‘No, of course not! You go and have fun,’ I say as brightly as I can. In reality I want to burst into tears.
‘Sure?’ he asks, his forehead full of concern wrinkles.
‘Yeah. Go.’ Go have fun with your cheap slut of a girlfriend.
‘Ok. Feel better.’ He smiles kindly towards me and pats me on the head. Like a dog.
‘Yes, do feel better,’ the bitch says, smiling with her lips, but warning with her eyes.
Chapter 12
When I open my flat door on Monday night, giggles peal over into the hallway.
‘Jazz?’
More giggling. It's definitely Jazz and someone else.
‘Ssshh!’ I hear her say.
Oh my God, who has she got here? I walk very slowly into the living room, worried I’ll find her in a newly installed sex swing. Instead I find her and my brother Oliver on the sofa. They’ve got tight smiles on their faces and wide black pupils.
‘Hey Po Po,’ Oliver slurs, his eyes blood shot. Smoke dances up from behind him.
‘Ollie, is your arse smoking?’
‘Oh, um...no. It's just...I’m hot stuff. I’m actually smoking hot.’
Jazz explodes over in fresh giggles. Ollie pulls the joint that he’s been hiding from behind him and takes another deep drag.
‘I can't believe you two have been getting stoned! I told you no drugs in my flat!’
‘Oh chill out Pops,’ Jazz laughs. She gets up and tries to hug me, but misses me completely, falling flat on the carpet. She looks up disorientated, only to throw her head back laughing.
What the hell are these two doing together anyway? They don't normally hang out.
‘You ready to go?’ Ollie asks me, standing up and wobbling a little.
‘Yeah, although I really don't feel up to it. You know Mum called just now and reminded me not to wear my hair up. Did you know that my ears are my worst feature?’
He smiles at me. ‘Sometimes it's all I can think about.’
I slap him on the shoulder and take a good look at him.
‘Jesus Ollie, your eyes are so blood shot. How are you gonna hide this from Mum?’
‘She’ll be too pissed to notice anyway,’ he laughs. ‘Right, come on then.’ He turns to wink at Jazz ‘Bye cheeky.’
Jazz winks back, a tight smile on her face. What the hell is going on between them?
‘What are you two doing hanging out together anyway?’ I ask, not able to help myself.
Awkward silence fills the air and I wish I’d just kept my big mouth shut.
‘I think he fancies me,’ Jazz jokes. ‘I can't blame him really. I mean, look at this.’ She points over her body, pushing her boobs out.
‘Yeah right!’ he snorts, playfully hitting her on the shoulder. ‘Other way round maybe.’
This flirting is outrageous. I can't believe my eyes.
‘Look,’ Ollie says to Jazz. ‘If you wanna fuck me, you know where I live.’ He blows a kiss as he dances away.
Jesus. What a tool.
‘Bye Romeo,’ Jazz sings after him. I shoot her a warning look and follow him out.
‘Jesus Ollie, are you wearing Timberland boots in June?’
‘Yeah, so what?’ he says, attempting to look at me, but instead getting distracted by a pigeon.
‘So, who do you think you are, P Diddy?’
‘I’m telling you, the only difference is I’m not black.’
‘Yep, only difference,’ I drool sarcastically.
We drive around to Mum’s house, whilst listening to Ollie’s Dubstep album, which he’s insisted on playing. We’re going round for our weekly Sunday roast, which for some bizarre reason we always have on a Monday. I haven’t been in a while but I know I’ll just get another whinging phone call if I don't, and it's really not worth it.
‘Oh, hi my little darlings,’ Mum sings from the kitchen. ‘Come and give Mummy a hug.’ She puts down her glass of wine and heads towards us.
Her style has never changed over the years, preferring to emulate a Barbie doll than a human being. Her blonde hair is scooped up into a hair clip, her sculpted cheeks painted with blusher and her thin lips glossed with the brightest neon pink. Except tonight it's smudged.
Ollie heads straight for the back door and lights up a fag while Mum squeezes me so hard I’m sure all of my secrets are going to fall out. Richard and Henry wave politely as they walk into the dining room. All three brothers share Mum’s gorgeous gene pool, the same blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. It's only me and Dad that are the ugly ducklings.
‘Hi Poppy Poppet,’ Dad says, as he comes out of the dining room. His pale milky skin is unusually flushed. He pulls me into a tight bear hug. ‘It's nearly ready.’
Dad always has to take over Mum’s cooking attempts. She’s always the first to offer to cook massive complicated meals, but then when the first item burns she decides to crack open the wine and let Dad save the day. That's what happens when you insist on drinking two bottles of wine while you cook.
‘Did you hear that everyone?’ Mum shouts. ‘It's nearly ready. Everyone in the dining room and remember, no-one is allowed in the sitting room!’
‘More wine Meryl!’ Auntie Beryl shouts, sticking her head out briefly from the dining room. ‘Hi Poppy darling,’ she smiles. Mum grabs another bottle and runs in.
I follow Dad into the kitchen and steal a roast potato, throwing it from hand to hand when I realise how piping hot it is.
‘Why aren’t we allowed in the sitting room?’ I ask Dad.
He sighs heavily and rolls his eyes.
‘She’s re-decorating it again. Doesn’t want anyone to see the new theme.’
‘Another theme?’
‘Yep.’ He hands me the spoon and indicates for me to continue stirring the gravy.
‘Dad, why don't you stop her? She only decorated that room three years ago.’ It always gets to me how she bosses him around and doesn’t let him have a say in anything.
‘You know her, love. Wild horses couldn’t stop her.’
I help Dad carry the plates into the dining room. I look around at the ‘tropical’ themed dining room and shudder. I remember when she unveiled this one. The mural walls of a Caribbean island, the giant fish tanks on either side of the room with tropical fish, the bamboo table and chairs. When it was originally unveiled she’d actually got sand imported, much to mine and Ollie’s delight. We spent the entire evening making sand castles, but she wasn’t happy when Ollie got drunk and peed on it and then dragged it all around the house on his shoes.
I’ve just got to get through this one meal. And hope Ollie doesn’t look suspicious.
‘So Richard, how are you and Annabel?’ I ask, not being able to fully look him in the eye.
‘Fine thanks,’ he smiles, beaming brightly. ‘Well actually, really good. We’re actually going to start trying for a baby.’
WHAT?
‘Oh darling!’ Mum sings. ‘I’m so happy for you both!’
‘A baby!’ Auntie Beryl screams. ‘Fantastic news!’
Trying for a baby? Is he mad? She’s cheating on you, I want to scream! But how could I do that? What the hell is Annabel playing at? What if she’s off the pill and gets pregnant by Cheryl’s husband and Richard ends up raising it, wondering why the baby looks nothing like him.
‘That's a bit rushed isn’t it?’ I blurt out, without thinking it through properly.
‘Rushed?’ he asks, turning to face me, puzzled.
‘Yes darling, what do you mean?’ Mum asks. ‘He and Annabel have been together forever. It's a natural normal step.’
‘A baby?’ Ollie asks, giggling. ‘Babies are silly.’ God, he’s stoned.
‘Oh, yeah...I know that. I just wanted to make sure you were sure,’ I mumble.
‘They’ve got like really small feet,’ Ollie continues ‘and like really, really small hands.’
Mum looks at him strangely.
‘Yes darling. Babies are generally small.’
‘I think someone might be a little jealous, hmm?’ Auntie Beryl says, smiling knowingly at Mum as she tops up their wine glasses.
‘No! Of course I’m not jealous,’ I retort.
They all smile knowingly and start different conversations. I can't believe this. Do they all think I’m madly jealous of happy couples or something? I’m just trying to stop him from making a huge mistake with a woman that's cheating on him. God, if only they knew.
Two hours later I decide to swap seats with Ollie (who, thank God, has calmed down a bit now) so that I can sit next to Richard.
‘So Rich,’ I say as casually as I can. ‘How is Annabel?’
‘Yeah, good thanks,’ he nods politely. This is what I hate about my two older brothers. They always talk to me like I’m some office acquaintance, not their baby sister. I want to be someone that they can confide in.