‘Although,’ Aaron casts an eye around the room and nods approvingly, ‘the place scrubs up alright, doesn’t it?’
It does. Our house has never looked as tidy. At least, not in the three years since we’ve had Elsie and Flossie. Even so, I glance around with a critical eye – with Alice’s eyes – at the internal doors that need a repaint, the wooden floor that could do with oiling, the grubby fingerprints on the pale grey walls and the rug that’s been clawed by our cream Persian rescue cat, Princess Sofia.
I assess Aaron sitting there in his dirty overalls. ‘Are you going to jump in the shower before they get here?’ Aaron’s a mechanic at the local garage and has been working this morning.
‘Fine. But I’m not standing on ceremony for them – I don’t care how much money they have. I’ve known Alice too long.’ He gets up and stretches his long legs before downing the remainder of his coffee.
Aaron and I met when we were seventeen. He was doing his apprenticeship and I was at a college learning Teeline shorthand and how to touch type. Alice, only thirteen months older than me, was about to go off to university. The first one in our family to do so. The only one. And Oxford no less. Aaron has never been particularly impressed with Alice’s high IQ, or wealth. He’s never felt less than good enough and I admire him for that. I just wish I felt the same.
He opens his mouth to say something else when we hear the slam of a car door and we both turn automatically towards the window. Alice is stepping out of the passenger side of a bright orange sports car, looking stunning in a low-cut jumpsuit, her red hair lying in perfect waves around her shoulders.
Aaron emits a low whistle as he moves to the window. At first I think he’s whistling at Alice – who is, after all, a glamorised version of myself – and I’m just about to tell him off for being a sexist pig, when he says, ‘Fuck me, that’s a McLaren!’
I have no idea what that is but it looks expensive, not that I’ve ever cared less about cars as long as it gets me from A to B. I notice it only has two seats. Good job I got Alice insured on my car otherwise they wouldn’t be able to take the twins out. Before I can react, Aaron has dumped his mug on the windowsill and is hot-footing it out the front door. He almost runs down the path to where the car is parked and he looks comical in his overalls which are slightly too short for his 6ft 2in frame. I watch, rooted to the spot, as he hugs Alice and then, emerging from the driver’s side, is the magnificent Kyle, resplendent in a tight-fitting linen shirt and jeans. He has a tan and his dark blond hair is sun-streaked at the front. My stomach swoops and I instantly feel guilty.
I first met Kyle four years ago. Alice had introduced him to me and Aaron over sushi in some swanky Covent Garden restaurant and when he stood up to shake my hand it had felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. He was like a Greek God. A Greek God in trendy jeans and an expensive Tom Ford shirt. I could actually see the muscles rippling through the fabric. I had been speechless, actually speechless, for a few seconds until Aaron prodded me in the ribs. Three months later Alice married him in a Las Vegas ceremony while on holiday without any of her friends or family in attendance – something Mum has never quite forgiven her for.
I watch from the window as Aaron gets behind the wheel, Kyle leaning in to show him the gadgets. I can’t help but cringe at this excessive token of wealth on our modest street. What will the neighbours think? I’ll have to tell Alice to make sure the car is parked around the back by the garages so that it’s out of sight. Last week Mike from Number 42 had his Alfa Romeo stolen. It was found a week later burnt out near the woods.
I take a deep breath and leave the room just in time to see Alice walking into the hallway. ‘There you are!’ she exclaims and trots towards me in her high heels, pulling me into her arms and engulfing me in a cloud of perfume. Then she stands back, still holding onto me so that I’m at arm’s length, assessing me, and I immediately feel underdressed in my old Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and ripped jeans. I always am compared to Alice. ‘You look great. It’s been too long.’ It’s been nearly six months.
I want to say, ‘Well if you didn’t spend all your time galivanting around the globe,’ but I don’t as it would sound churlish and I don’t want to ruin this moment. Despite our differences, Alice and I have always been close. Less so since Kyle came on the scene, but that’s only because their lives are so busy we don’t get the chance to spend so much time together. ‘It’s lovely to see you. I love your jumpsuit,’ I say instead.
‘Bella Freud,’ she replies and I nod, pretending I know who she’s talking about. She follows me down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house and sits at the wooden table encrusted with dried paint courtesy of the twins.
‘Tea?’
‘Oh yes please. I’m parched. So, where’s Elsie Else and the Flossmyster? I’m desperate to see them.’ She’s always got special names for everyone, as though we are DJs or in a metal band. I was The Tashatron for years.
I click the kettle on. ‘Viv took them to the park this morning.’ I don’t say it was so I could thoroughly clean the house. ‘They’ll be back in a bit.’
‘I bet they’ve grown loads.’ Alice has always been great with them, although she’s adamant she doesn’t want any of her own. ‘I’ve missed the little munchkins. I bought them a gift.’ Alice’s gifts are always too expensive, purchased at posh little Hampstead boutiques and handed over in fancy gift bags and trussed up in tissue paper. ‘Kyle will bring them in from the car.’
I make her a strong cup of tea and place it on the table in front of her.
‘So,’ she says, as I pull out the chair opposite and sit down. ‘Are you excited?’
‘Excited?’
‘For Venice! We were at the apartment last week and it is such a lovely time of year to go. Quieter than August, but the weather still great … mostly! And the views. So romantic.’
Alice and Kyle bought the apartment last year to add to their portfolio: a huge double-fronted townhouse in London, a cottage in Cornwall which they rent out, and a ski lodge in Austria.
‘Um … yes, of course …’ I try to inject enthusiasm into my voice but Alice is far from stupid. And she knows me too well.
‘You don’t need to worry about the twins. Kyle and I will take excellent care of them. He’s great with his sister’s boys. And we have Viv down the road if there’s any problems. Which,’ she reaches out and brushes my fingers, ‘there won’t be!’ The implication being if Alice can hold down a job as a scientist at a top research facility then she can look after two little girls.
I swallow down my anxiety. ‘I’ve put the schedule on the fridge. What time nursery starts, what time to pick them up, I’ve got some meals I’ve already made in the freezer …’ I trail off at the look on my sister’s face. ‘What?’
‘Stop worrying. I won’t let them out of my sight.’
My eyes well up and it’s there, suspended in the air between us, always unvoiced but ever present. Our Family Tragedy. I blink away the tears, embarrassed. ‘You promise,’ I say, my voice sounding small.