No Sister of Mine (ARC) Page 4

  waiting in the corner. We had never left it so late before, but decorating the tree was a task she 23

  had decided could not be undertaken until we were all together again, just like old times. She’d made it sound as if Eve had been gone for years. Still, it gave us something practical to do

  while Dad changed out of his office clothes and settled down in his armchair with his crossword and Mum busied herself in the kitchen, from where occasional snatches of Christmas carols,

  or her attempts at them, sung slightly out of tune, reached us through the open door.

  ‘So, what’s it like?’ I asked Eve, sitting cross-legged on the carpet and passing various

  baubles and bells to her one at a time while she stood above me and pondered where to hang

  them. ‘Living on your own, and having to cook and everything? Do you have to clean your

  own room as well? What are the other girls like? Met any boys yet?’

  Eve laughed. ‘Slow down, Sprout. Too many questions all at once!’ She reached up

  high, biting her lip in concentration as she tried to secure a wonky robin to the end of a branch, finally standing back to admire him as she took another ornament from my hand. ‘Okay.

  Cooking’s all right. There’s a shop on campus, with all the basics. Bread, milk, eggs, tins, and piles of apples and bananas – students seem to eat a lot of those, or someone’s trying to make

  sure we do! And there’s a bus that goes to the big supermarket, so one or two of us from the

  flat will go there sometimes and get supplies in for the lot of us. There’s a fair bit of sharing goes on, if someone makes a pan of mince or something, but it’s tempting to just eat in the

  cafeteria or grab something from the chip shop. And I’ve probably eaten more late-night bowls

  of cereal than ever before.’

  ‘Very healthy, I’m sure!’

  ‘It is, actually, and much better than all that chocolate you stash under your pillow for

  midnight snacks. I bet you do that even more now I’m not around to keep an eye on you.’

  I glanced at Dad to make sure he wasn’t listening, but he seemed to have nodded off to

  sleep. ‘Says the girl who used to slurp vodka as soon as the lights went out.’ I lowered my

  voice, just in case I was wrong and he was simply resting his eyes.

  She looked down at her feet. ‘Not often, and I don’t do it anymore. Can’t afford to,

  apart from anything else. And where’s the fun in doing something you probably shouldn’t when

  your parents aren’t there to lie to or hide it from? I’m an adult now, Sarah. Drinking’s allowed.

  And that takes all the fun out of it somehow.’

  ‘God, you sound boring. I thought uni was going to be all about wild parties and not

  remembering how you got home!’

  ‘Well, for me it’s not. To be honest, I’d rather talk about my course and all the

  wonderful books we’re studying, but I know you’ll probably glaze over at the very idea of that, 24

  so if you want the nitty gritty . . . No, I don’t go to wild parties and I haven’t met any boys. Not in the way you mean, anyway. Which brings me to the one you told me about. Still bothering

  you, is he?’

  ‘What? Colin, you mean?’ I could feel myself redden just at the sound of his name. ‘I

  never said he was bothering me, Eve. Just that he sort of, well, likes me.’

  She pulled the pouffe across from beside the sofa and climbed up onto it to put the fairy

  on top of the tree. ‘There we are. The finishing touch. I made that fairy, do you remember? In

  primary school. Time we got a new one really. Her wings are getting a bit tatty.’

  ‘I suppose. Be a shame to change things though, wouldn’t it? She’s a part of our lives,

  our childhood . . .’

  ‘Things change, Sarah. Not much we can do about that. I mean, look at you, all grown

  up. I swear you’re at least two inches taller than when I left.’ She sat down beside me on the

  carpet and linked her arm through mine. ‘So, how do you feel about him, this Colin? You said

  he was younger than you. And a bit on the chubby side? He’s not really boyfriend material, is

  he? And you are still a bit young . . .’

  ‘Just forget I ever mentioned him, all right?’ I squirmed away from her and stood up.

  She was just going to mock me, wasn’t she? Silly little Sarah, too young to be interested in

  boys, or for any boy to be showing an interest back. It was typical of Eve, playing the seemingly protective, but-really-I-know-best, big-sister card. But things do change, she was right about

  that. I had no intention of being Little Sarah, forever in her shadow, any longer. Or of settling for Colin Grant who, let’s face it, was only fourteen, and probably still wore Superman pyjamas and took a hot water bottle to bed. There were girls in my year at school who were already on

  the pill. Dating sixth formers. Wearing C-cup bras and blagging their way into nightclubs. I

  looked down at my still disappointingly flat chest and horribly skinny knees. Okay, so I didn’t quite look the part yet, but it wouldn’t be long . . .

  ‘I’m going to see if Mum needs any help in the kitchen,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘You

  can walk Buster for a change. After all these weeks of me having to do it on my own, it’s

  definitely your turn.’

  ‘Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since we got back.’

  ‘Upstairs on your bed, probably. He’s taken to sleeping there quite a bit since you’ve

  been gone. Your quilt’s got a bit hairy, but never mind, eh?’

  ‘Yuck!’ She pulled a face and headed for the stairs, taking her suitcase with her, and

  muttering under her breath, ‘I just hope he hasn’t got fleas.’

  25

  Mum was making shepherd’s pie for tea. It was one of Eve’s favourites, and I knew full well that the next couple of weeks were going to be all about Eve. By the time I joined Mum

  in the kitchen she had already peeled the potatoes and they were bubbling away in a pan on the

  stove.

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘No, Love. You go and make the most of having your sister home. Have a girly chat,

  swap make-up, play some music in your room, whatever you girls like to do. I know how much

  you’ve missed her.’

  ‘Actually, I think she’s about to walk the dog. And it’s cold out there. I’d rather stay at

  home. Plenty of time to catch up later.’

  ‘Homework then? I’m sure they must have given you some to do over the holidays, and

  you don’t want to leave it to the last minute, do you?’

  Given the choice of dog walking or homework, I knew which I preferred. It may have

  been cold outside, but not that cold. I grabbed Buster’s lead from behind the back door and went to find my coat, and my sister, in the hall.

  Buster’s route around the block was as good as set in stone. I sometimes thought we

  could have opened the front door and sent him off out by himself and he’d have trundled from

  tree to lamp post and back again without even realising there was no lead attached to his collar and no human attached to the other end. Still, I never dared try it. Much as I might moan about Buster and the need to take him out in all weathers, I loved that old dog and couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to him.

  ‘So, what have you been up to then, while I’ve been away?’ Eve and I fell into step and

  trailed along, slowly, behind the dog.

  ‘Not a lot.’

  ‘How’s school?’

  ‘I hate school. You know that.’

  ‘Well, you won’t get to uni by hating school. You’ve got to knuckle down for your

>   exams next summer, and get the grades, or you won’t even get to do the A levels you want.

  Which subjects do you fancy, by the way?’

  ‘Can’t say I fancy any of them, actually. Now, Paul Jacobs . . . I do fancy him!’

  Eve laughed. ‘Boys aren’t the be all and end all, you know. Look at me. Still young,

  free and single, and I don’t ever feel there’s a gaping great hole in my life.’

  26

  ‘You’re different. You’re clever and sensible, and you love studying, and books. You’ll probably marry some nerdy swot when you’re thirty-five and go off to live in a library, and

  end up with a row of little kids who all wear glasses. Going to uni is all you ever dreamed of.

  I haven’t got a hope in hell of doing as well in my exams as you did, and then Dad’ll be on my

  back about throwing my future away, and Mum’ll be trying to get me onto some typing course,

  and I’ll end up being some no-hope office junior for ever.’

  ‘God, Sarah, you sound like you’ve given up already. There must be something you

  want to do, something you’re good enough at that you could build a career around. And you

  said you wanted to know all about uni, so you must at least like the idea of going there yourself.’

  ‘Yeah, to get away from home, meet people, party . . .’

  ‘We do have to study as well, you know. It’s not all fun and games. And some of it is

  just like the school you say you hate so much. Lectures, and assignments, and deadlines. Don’t

  put yourself through all that just to be allowed to stay up late and drink yourself stupid. You can do that anywhere.’

  ‘Try telling Mum and Dad that!’

  ‘Well, I don’t mean now, obviously. Not while you’re still only fifteen.’

  ‘Sixteen next month.’

  ‘Yes, okay. Not yet, is all I meant. But later on, when you’re earning, when you can get

  your own place . . .’

  ‘Which, without an education and a decent job, I will never be able to afford. It’s like

  some nasty evil masterplan, isn’t it? The only way you have any hope of getting what you

  really want is to have to do the very thing you don’t want to do at all.’

  ‘Like work hard, you mean? Pass exams? Get a career? That’s how the world works. It

  doesn’t just land in your lap.’

  ‘You do know you sound just like Mum, don’t you? But there’s always the other way,

  isn’t there? Meet someone rich, have babies, never have to work at all . . .’

  ‘And how often does that happen? Prince Edward isn’t about to pop up at the corner

  shop, is he?’

  ‘Prince Edward? For heaven’s sake, Eve, credit me with some taste. He may be royal

  and all that, but he’s ancient.’

  ‘So you want rich and young, do you? And with film-star looks too, I suppose?’

  ‘Of course. I was thinking someone more like Ronan Keating or Robbie Williams . . .’

  27

  ‘Dream on, Kid! Besides, Ronan’s just got married, hasn’t he? You’ve missed the boat there. But if there’s one thing that really is good about uni it’s the number of available boys.

  You’d be spoilt for choice.’

  ‘All poor though, living on student grants and baked beans.’

  ‘Maybe. But with prospects, at least.’

  ‘So, where’s yours then? Your boy with prospects? Because I can’t see him anywhere.’

  ‘That’s because he doesn’t exist. Because I’m not looking for him. But that’s not to say

  I couldn’t find him if I was.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Go on then. Prove it.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’ She turned to face me, her expression suddenly serious. ‘It’s all about

  priorities, isn’t it? Concentrating on my course instead of going on some kind of frantic

  manhunt is my choice. Just like whether to try for uni or not is yours. I’m not going to tell you what to do, even if Mum and Dad might try to.’

  We stood in silence, watching Buster as he snuffled out a big stick from the base of a

  tree. Eve bent down to pull it out of his mouth. She threw it up high, trying to start a game, and we watched as it landed on the pavement a few yards away, but clearly Buster didn’t want it

  enough to make the effort to run and retrieve it. Somehow, I knew exactly how he felt.

  28

  CHAPTER 5

  EVE

  There was a strange noise coming from Fran’s room. I had come in from my last lecture of the

  day, tired and cold and fancying a quick slice of toast before working out what to eat for my

  dinner, but I had forgotten I didn’t have any butter left. I really couldn’t face the walk back to the shop, so I took a peek on the other girls’ shelves in the big communal fridges, which were

  looking badly in need of a good wipe down although I felt no great urge to tackle the job myself.

  I was just about to pinch a scrape of Annie’s margarine and a sneaky spoon of Ruth’s

  strawberry jam, when I heard what sounded very much like someone trying to suppress a

  scream.

  I froze. What on earth was that? I tiptoed out into the hall and waited. There it was

  again, and it was coming from Fran’s room, right opposite the kitchen. A kind of gasping sound

  I had never heard her make before. Was she ill? Hurt? I felt my heart start to race and was about to rap on her door to see if she was all right when I distinctly heard her laugh. Well, I suppose it was more of a giggle really. And then a male voice, deep and low, saying something I

  couldn’t quite make out – in fact it was almost definitely in a foreign language – followed a

  few seconds later by a slow rhythmic banging, like something hitting hard against the wall, that just seemed to get louder and faster, and more and more blindingly obvious, the longer I stood

  there, my feet inexplicably glued to the floor.

  Fran had a man in there, and they were . . . well, I was pretty sure they were having sex.

  Another gasp filtered through the wall. It was no good. I didn’t want to listen. I might

  be tired and hungry, but I just wanted to get out of there so I didn’t have to hear any more.

  Flicking the toaster switch off, with the slice of bread still inside, I grabbed my coat and bag from where I’d left them on the back of a chair and ran for the stairs.

  It was a chilly January evening, already dark, and I had no real plan, so I just put my

  head down to keep the wind out of my face and headed towards the centre of campus, and the

  shop. I might as well buy that butter I needed so I wouldn’t have to pinch any more from the

  others. I can’t say I was too keen on that awful margarine that Annie used anyway. And maybe

  I could run to a bottle of wine, just a cheap one. Suddenly, I felt like I really needed a drink.

  And a pair of ear plugs, but I doubted they sold them.

  Lenny was in his usual spot behind the counter.

  29

  ‘Hello, Evie Peevie. What can we get you today, my lovely?’

  ‘Hi, Lenny. I’ll just grab a basket and have a browse, I think. See what takes my fancy.’

  ‘You do know I’m spoken for, don’t you?’ he said, giving me an exaggerated wink.

  ‘And you’d need a considerably bigger basket . . .’

  ‘I didn’t mean you! As well you know.’ I laughed, giving him a friendly punch on the

  arm, and made my way down the booze aisle which was, I suppose unsurprisingly considering

  the shopping priorities of the average student, almost as big as all the food ones put together.

  ‘What’re you up to later?’ Lenny had followed me to the wine shelves and was hovering

  at my side, pushing his
floppy hair back out of his eyes. Oh God, I hoped he had only been

  joking and he wasn’t about to ask me out or something.

  ‘Not a lot. I’ve got a book I’m supposed to have read and haven’t. And my dinner to

  sort out.’

  ‘Come out with us. Beth and me. Have a few drinks, get a burger . . .’

  ‘You sure she wouldn’t mind?’ The idea certainly appealed, but I hesitated. ‘I really

  don’t want to be some sort of gooseberry, elbowing in on your date.’

  ‘Course not! She’d love to see you. It’s not as if we were planning some romantic

  twosome. I’m sure there’ll be others about. It usually turns into a bit of a group thing on a

  Friday night. Beth’s science crowd mostly. And I think there’s a band on, in the bar. Not exactly Take That, but it’s a chance to have a dance, a bit of a laugh, you know . . .’

  Since getting back after Christmas, I hadn’t been out much. Too cold, too busy. I was

  in danger of becoming a hermit, and I knew it. I didn’t have a lot else to do that night which

  didn’t involve either studying or being an unwilling witness to someone else’s love life, so why not?

  ‘Okay. When were you thinking of meeting up? And where?’

  ‘Look, my shift ends in about ten minutes, so why not hang around now? Keep me

  company, and then we can walk to Beth’s place together. Unless you wanted to go back and

  get changed or anything?’

  I looked down at myself. Clean jeans, a T-shirt and baggy cardi. My warm coat, and a

  pair of trainers, not too scuffed. I was presentable enough. Not quite nightclub wear, but this was uni, and everyone dressed pretty much the same way, whatever the occasion. And I always

  carried a toothbrush and a basic make-up kit in my bag. I’d do.

  I put my empty basket down. The last thing I’d want if I was staying out for the evening

  was to drag a slab of butter about with me. I could already imagine it getting warm in the heat 30

  of the bar and squashed to a pulp at the bottom of my bag. An excuse not to go back to the flat, and to whatever was going on in Fran’s room, was just what I needed.

  ‘No, that’s okay. I’ll come now.’