LOLA JAYE

While You Were Dreaming

If friends are the family you choose–

this one’s for my sisters!

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Lola Jaye

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

I tried my best not to puke up my lunch, standing in the doorway, watching the man I was supposed to love having sex with another woman.

A cauldron of emotion sloshed about within me–disbelief, denial, anger–before the inevitable star of the show, Acceptance, finally appeared, letting me know that this was real and it was happening. To me. With my boyfriend and with a woman I had trusted.

If only it was possible to teleport back in time, say, to twenty minutes ago, when I was sitting in a cafe across the road, tucking into a giant piece of chocolate cake and daydreaming. Well, in fact I’d been daydreaming most of the day–in between thinking about all the massive things that needed changing in my life. Things I had previously been so scared of discussing but suddenly felt more ready than ever to talk about.

But here I stood, watching my boyfriend’s Oscar-winning porn performance, and all those so-called plans began to shatter into miniature shards of hopelessness.

I felt for the notepad and yellow fluffy pen in my back pocket as a shiver sprinted through my entire body; the forgotten half-empty can of ginger beer fell from my hand, its contents spilling out over the hard wood floor. That’s when they both stopped, opened their eyes and whipped their heads round, like the girl from The Exorcist.

‘Lena?’ Justin gasped, sounding like a complete stranger and not the man I’d spent the last two years with. I lifted my face up and felt my eyes betray me and begin to moisten. My mouth widened to speak, but nothing came out. I just knew that I had to get out of that flat and as far away as possible. I had never witnessed anything so painful in my entire thirty years on this earth.

Backing out of that door, my knees were ready to buckle. I reached for the banisters to support myself as Justin called out to me in a pathetic, yet desperate-sounding voice. ‘Lena!’

My legs were turning to blancmange. I had to get out of there. To refocus. To think. My mind was jabbering something incoherent and silly, as my body was too damn numb to respond. I was now moving in slow motion, heading for the stairs, placing one foot on the first step in front of me.

I needed to think.

Second step.

I needed to be alone.

Third step.

I needed space.

I suppose, in normal circumstances, I’d have noticed the sparkling sandal that clearly wasn’t mine, jutting out from the fourth step and glistening in the sunlight that was pouring in from the window. I’d have kicked it out of the way in rage, or at the very least avoided it. But in my current state I wouldn’t have noticed an elephant dressed in a tutu; all I could focus on was the rapid beating of my heart, very runny nose, and the tears that were now coursing down my cheeks. So I’d no chance against that sandal as it attacked my left foot and sent me flying down those stairs. My stomach juices swished about like the inside of a washing machine: porridge, plantain chips, lychees, the giant slab of chocolate cake–all conspiring together to form one big indigestible mass.

My body finally landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs in a position that would rival any advanced yoga devotee. And then I waited. My mind entering a place where nothing could get to me any more.

I waited for the onset of pain that was sure to come.

I was ready.

Go on, hit me with it. It’s not as if the day could get any worse.

My eyes slowly flickered shut like a malfunctioning antique television. I knew it was coming. It was definitely coming…Yes…it was almost here, now…

The pain.

So much pain.

And then. The darkness.

ONE

Cara would always remember where she was and what she was doing the day she found out about Lena.

She was where she’d always been on a Tuesday evening–serving some pig of a customer who this time was insisting she’d incorrectly handed over change for a ten-pound note when he’d actually given her a twenty.

‘It was a tenner, I can assure you,’ she said plainly, at the same time indulging in a fantasy that involved ramming said ten-pound note down his throat.

‘I suggest you check at the till and see the last note you placed inside, Miss,’ he said pompously.

Cara rolled her eyes, unable to care if he noticed. Ade was always going on about the customer always being right and, in all honesty, she’d always taken great offence to that line. This was her bar (well, hers and Ade’s) and the only person who was right (in this instance especially) was her, and she was about to prove it.

She pressed the button and the till drawer opened.

‘Unless it’s one of those rare magical and invisible ones, it isn’t here and you gave me a tenner. Would you like anything else, sir?’ she said sharply, hoping this particular customer wouldn’t be back. Ever. It wasn’t as if the bar needed him. After three long years of hard slog, sleepless nights, and some tense meetings with their teenage bank manager, A&R was finally turning over a profit. Everyone, especially her sister Lena, had warned her that such a move was going to be tough and a high risk. But Cara and Ade had poured their heart and soul as well as blood, sweat, tears, and everything else they had into making it work. Even as the world seemed to be sinking into a global recession, Cara and Ade were still holding their own as East Dulwich fast became a more convenient and cheaper option to the West End. And A&R could compete with the best of the West End bars, with its relaxing and cool décor–low lighting provided by mini-chandeliers, miniature booths with cosy leather sofas, separated by diamante-encrusted muslin curtains. Away, but not too far away in Overhill Road, Cara and Ade lived in her dream flat, which had a beautiful view of what seemed like the whole of London. She was ‘sorted’, basically. Everything was the way it should be in her life: great boyfriend, beautiful flat, and a thriving business.

Cara ran her fingers through her short crop. She was tired and her feet were starting to ache, which was probably due to a combination of being on them all day without a break and the fact that she was wearing a new pair of satin purple high heels that she’d yet to break in. That was another thing her thriving business afforded her: a pick of shoes. She was on first-name terms with the girls in Kurt Geiger and Bertie, owned a pair of Christian Louboutin’s, a pair of Sergio Rossi’s and would soon be holding a beautiful pair of five-inch orange and black Gina’s. The higher the shoe, the more confident she felt–especially as she was only five foot.

‘Cara! Cara!’ Ade was calling out to her from across the bar. His voice was urgent, impatient. This wasn’t like Ade. He was always the calm to her chaos. The sweetness to her (and she could admit this) abrasiveness. What was going on with him?

‘Ade?’ They both started heading towards each other, almost as if they were in slow motion. Ade was clutching the cordless phone, his hand placed over the mouthpiece. ‘It’s for you,’ he whispered with a sombre expression.

Her heart began to race. Something was up. All sorts of horrid thoughts ran through her mind. Maybe they weren’t as flush as she’d thought. Maybe her business was about to fall victim to the recession after all. She could cope with anything except that. Please, no. ‘Who is it?’ she whispered, unable to take the phone from him.

‘It’s Fen Lane Hospital. They…they need to…to speak to you urgently!’ He seemed to be talking in tiny bursts, breathing in short breaths, as if he’d just swum twenty lengths. His eyes were wide and alert.

Cara felt her heart leap into her stomach as she stood rooted to the spot. The Stylistics belted out ‘Betcha By Golly Wow’ through the state-of-the-art sound system.

‘The hospital?’ she repeated in a whisper that was drowned out by the music.

‘It’s…its Lena…’ Ade said.

TWO

Millie was in the middle of what could only be described as a monumental state of bliss as one set of larger-than-average toes jutted out from the end of a very messy bed.

‘Wake up sleepy!’ she said, the rest of her body emerging from under the duvet. The foot stirred a bit in response and she leaned over to the side table, switching on the tiny pink digital radio. The beginning of a muffled yawn escaped from the snugness of the duvet as the silky voice of the DJ kicked in. ‘We’re nearing the end of drive time–here’s something from back in the day!’

‘Millie,’ moaned the drowsy voice from inside the duvet, as ‘Firestarter’ blasted over the airwaves.

‘Morning, handsome,’ she beamed. She rarely felt this happy and complete: it made a nice change.

‘What the…?’ Rik was still half asleep; he rubbed his eyes frantically.

‘It’s almost evening, time to get up!’ She said brightly, prising the covers away from his head and flashing him a beaming smile. Her untamed shoulder length curls bounced around her oval-shaped face.

‘Mmmmm, I’m hungry,’ Rik sighed. She’d been seeing him for the past month and she really, really liked him…In fact…‘Any chance of some food, Mille?’ he went on, twirling his hand in the air.

And then there was the way he said her name, the way he scrunched his nose just before he laughed; even his massive feet were cute. She’d fallen for him hard and, looking at Rik now, she knew exactly what she needed to say.

‘I…’ she began warily.

Rik leaned over to switch off her tiny pink radio–a twenty-fourth birthday present from Lena only a few months ago that matched Millie’s CD player, along with the card inscription: ‘To my irresponsible, loving, and beautiful little sister, Millie. Happy Birthday. You’re a star. Love, Lena.

‘I’ll see what’s in the fridge, but it’s probably going to be cold pizza from last night. Unless you want me to put together something from Lena’s stash. Warning though: it’s only going to be healthy stuff like aduki beans and apples. Oh, but I think I know where she keeps her secret store of Toblerone,’ Millie said excitedly.

‘Actually, don’t worry about the food,’ Rik said, suddenly changing his mind. He jumped out of bed, sliding his perfect frame into his Diesel jeans.

Her heart leapt. She wanted to say it. She really had to tell him she loved him. And now, before it was too late.

‘Rik,’ she began, realizing her lips had to move fast if she was to get the words out before he left the flat. He hardly called as it was, and they never went out to places (unless you counted the fish-and-chip shop last Saturday), so she didn’t know when the next ‘perfect’ time would come about again. He now had his shirt in his hands, after all, and his trainers had magically slipped onto his feet; she had to work fast or else the moment would be lost.

She had to tell him now.

Now.

Now! ‘I love you.’

And then silence. In fact she couldn’t hear anything but the ticking of her Betty Boo alarm clock as they stood facing one another as though they were in some type of face-off, his belt unbuckled, muscular six-pack tantalizingly naked.

She bit her bottom lip nervously and waited.

Rik merely sighed and then averted his gaze to his jacket–hooked on the edge of the wardrobe door, which was itself hanging off its hinges. He slipped into his shirt, still saying nothing, and Millie grabbed the duvet, hugging it close to her as she suddenly felt quite cold.

‘Aren’t you going to say anything, Rik?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Millie, I do like you…But…’

And there it began. A jumble of words that, once strung together, all amounted to the same thing.

He. Didn’t. Want. Her.

‘I think we need time apart,’ he muttered finally.

She pretended not to hear him, desperate to shut out the words she’d been hearing for as long as she could remember. From guys, mainly. Ex’s who clearly weren’t as perfect for her as Rik. And he was perfect for her. Rik, who spelt his name without a ‘c’. Rik, who made her feel a lot less lonely. Rik, who looked out for her. Of course she had Lena and sometimes Cara (very rarely, Cara), but it was so nice to have someone like Rik around and she needed to remind him of just why they were so, so, so, so perfect for one another. She loved him. He was the one for her and she for him.

She needed him–didn’t that count for anything?

So, what Millie did next came naturally.

‘No, stop it Millie,’ he murmured, pulling away from her tight kiss. This was futile, of course, as she was clinging onto him oh-so-desperately. Her hands digging into his arms as he attempted to extract himself from her grip and possibly from her life forever. And she couldn’t have that. Not this time and not again. She didn’t know if her heart could cope with yet another crack.

He gripped her shoulders firmly. ‘I said no, Millie!’ His voice was strong, firm, like a father telling her off, she suspected.

The mixture of pity and coldness she clearly recognized, though.

‘Don’t,’ he said, as he gently moved her face away from him. ‘Don’t do this, Millie.’

A huge feeling of rejection washed over her, threatening to devour every one of her senses if she didn’t begin some sort of damage limitation.

‘I get it, you’re knackered, I shouldn’t have woken you up! Go home, get some rest and I’ll see you later?’ she said breathlessly, but he returned a look she couldn’t quite read–or didn’t want to.

‘No, I don’t think it’s a good idea, seeing as though–’

‘No! Don’t say it!’ she snapped, jumping off the bed and leaving the bed shaking in her wake.

‘It has to be said because you clearly weren’t listening earlier, Millie,’ he replied gently.

She silently begged him not to say the words again. Yes, she’d heard something in the early hours of the morning after a lovely evening together but, as usual, her natural refusal to absorb or process any of the hurtful words had kicked in.

‘It’s over,’ he said.

She placed her hands over her ears, wanting to switch the radio back on, needing to block out what he was saying to her.

‘We are over. I thought I made myself clear before.’

She threw her hands back down. ‘But, I thought–’

‘You thought that if you managed to get me into bed again, have a few drinks, everything would be all right. Well, it isn’t, Millie. I wanted to make sure you were all right, you know…. You said you wanted me to hold you, so I did and then we…I’m sorry. I really am.’

‘So, if you’re sorry, then don’t do it. Please don’t leave me!’ Millie didn’t care how desperate she sounded; she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to get dumped again.

But Rik’s eyed were darting frantically around her room; taking in the stained mugs, half-read magazines and lip-gloss-covered towel. Millie’s mind attempted to separate and communicate the whirl of questions, answers, protestations, and pleadings that were rushing around in her head like an out-of-control carousel. ‘So…so, are you really going?’

Rik now had his jacket on and was picking his way through the clutter of boxes that Millie had not yet unpacked since her move from the Bow bedsit, three months ago.

‘This room is in such a state,’ he said as he scanned his eyes over two fat bags of washing that still hadn’t made it to the launderette.

‘Thanks.’

‘I’ve lost my watch,’ he said circling his left wrist. ‘If you find it, can you let me know, please?’

She was glad that the place was a mess, that he’d misplaced his beloved, stupid watch. That way at least she had something of his to hold onto and he’d have to come back for it sometime. And perhaps when he did come back, she’d answer the door in that New Look chiffon minidress she’d bought a few months ago. She’d also pile on that new Rimmel mascara her mate Nikki was always going on about and, if she could afford it, she’d splash out on a trip to Monique’s to get her hair straightened. Actually, on second thoughts, Rik liked her soft curls: he’d told her that once.

‘So, you’re really going then?’ she asked, her voice breaking.

‘Yes, Millie. I’m sorry. I mean, you’re a great girl and everything but nothing’s changed since last night. I’m sorry, Millie,’ he replied, buttoning up his jacket.

And with that, he slipped out of her bedroom, quickly. And although she had pretty much used up any last scrap of dignity, all she could do now was listen as he hurried down the stairs, each step he took feeling like one more chip away at her heart.

She shut her bedroom door and sank down onto her bed. Men broke up with her all the time, but she hadn’t a clue why. She was attentive, respectful, loving, sexy, and could usually pass off one of Lena’s delicious dinners as her own. What was wrong with her?

She took a deep breath, wanting to pull herself together, but knowing she couldn’t yet. Yes, she was twenty-four. A big girl now. And she was used to this; but, nevertheless, she was no less tired of it all. Just over two months ago, Olu informed her it couldn’t, ‘wouldn’t work’, and a month before that, Kenny stopped returning her calls. She wiped her eyes just as her mobile phone belted out a rubbish version of the theme tune to The Simpson’s. She stood up quickly, her little toe banging against the edge of the bed.

‘Owwww!’ she cried as the pain shot through her body. The phone stopped ringing and she threw herself onto her bed as the tears came freely. She wasn’t crying because of her toe (though that had bloody hurt!) but she sobbed for the loss of Rik and every other man she’d longed to have a relationship with.

What was wrong with her?

Both her sisters had great relationships.

Why did this only ever happen to her?

Ten minutes later, she was still crying when the phone rang again. This time she answered it.

It was her sister Cara, who normally texted her short, sharp messages–when she wasn’t nagging or shouting at her, that was. Lena was the sister that always tried to keep them from decking one another. Always wanting them to ‘be close’.

Being the youngest meant that Millie grew up bearing the brunt of Cara’s ‘jokes’ when she was irritated or just bored. Like the invention of Spiralicious the sea monster, which was ready to eat her at any moment if she didn’t do as Cara said. At five she’d believed ten-year-old Cara as she regularly threatened her with ‘it’, frightening her into doing extra chores and basically scaring the shit out of her. She’d regularly go and hide, usually under the stairs, and it was always Lena who would find her and try and convince her that Spiralicious didn’t actually exist.

In fact, it was always Lena who would come to her rescue and pick up the pieces. Soothing her, comforting her, and promising her that bar of Toblerone she’d always keep under her bed.

‘Hi Cara,’ Millie sighed, ready to be told off for something or other.

‘Are you sitting down?’ said Cara, her voice uncharacteristically gentle and quiet. It sounded as if she’d been crying. Actually, she’d never heard or seen Cara cry before.

‘What is it?’ Millie asked, sitting up straight, suddenly terrified.

As Cara spoke, Millie gripped the phone tightly to her, her chest heaving with loud, frightened sobs. She knew that by answering that call, her life had just taken a startling turn. In fact, she felt she’d do anything to go back in time to her childhood, find a corner and just hide, until someone told her that this new state of horror didn’t actually exist.

THREE

One Week Earlier…

‘You’re my Prince Charming, dear!’ Enthused, the silver-haired old lady thanking him as he handed her the last of the coins that had toppled out of her purse and onto the pavement.

‘Don’t worry about it, you just take care,’ he said with a straight smile. Now that was a first, he thought. Prince Charming. Women usually made references to his ‘lovely bushy eyebrows’ (that he hated), long girly eyelashes, (which he detested) and the chiselled (chiselled?) jawline, but he’d never once been described as Prince Charming before. This was definitely a first. He rubbed his stomach consciously. A diet of greasy takeaways and fizzy drinks had meant he was beginning to develop a slight gut, but somehow he’d not plucked up the courage to take a leaflet from one of those muscly types who stood outside the station handing out ‘free gym trials’, probably because he just wasn’t that motivated to do anything that involved leg lifts, sweat and pushy instructors. What energies he did have were reserved for trying to improve his financial situation and well, his future. He had plans and was going to stick to them. Of course he hadn’t always been a ‘miserable git’ as his sister Charlotte sometimes liked to call him. He liked to think he had his ‘moments.’

But for now he was on his way to the job he detested, where he spent the bulk of his time regularly checking sales figures on products he just didn’t care about, and every 4.5 minutes checking his computer clock, which only told him he had too long to go until he was allowed back into the flat he also hated, next door to a bunch of neighbours–the noisiest neighbours in the world–that he hated almost as much as his job. So, as Michael headed towards the bus stop with a million things on his mind and, again, with a complete lack of motivation to start tackling them, he did so with a heavy heart. Of course, at thirty-one he knew he couldn’t continue feeling the way he did about…everything. Feeling half the man he wanted to be. Feeling that anything great, any major accomplishment, seemed to be easily within the reach of others but way out of his. Everyone in his life–family, boss, mates–seemed to expect him to act like a performing seal, when all he really wanted to do was go away and get things done, his way. Not that he begrudged his family anything at all. He actually felt useful when he did odd jobs for his mother and fixed things for his sister and the kids–he just wanted a bit of a rest from some of the bad feeling sometimes. Just so he could focus on all the plans he had. But then his sister Charlotte would often say he had too much time on his hands and why didn’t he go out more?

As usual, he made his way up on to the double-decker bus with his Oyster card, a part of him hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl he’d noticed just the other day.

He’d never really noticed her before. His head was normally glued to the back pages of Metro as he made his way to the stairs–a good tactic for blocking out the madness around him. But that day, he didn’t have a paper, and when he reached the stairs, he glanced up to notice a stunning girl with the plumpest lips he’d ever seen, smiling in his direction from the back of the bus. When he smiled back, she bent her head in embarrassment. He’d noticed her eyes too. Green. But not just any green. Totally ‘out there’ green. They were striking against her exotic complexion, and he could tell that she was curvy rather than skin and bones. She was dressed quirkily, a multicoloured hair band holding back her big unruly hair.

It was probably a good job she’d turned away, because suddenly any grain of confidence he might have had left dissipated and he slowly lifted himself up the stairs, away from the green-eyed girl. He wanted to kick himself, but he just didn’t have the courage to talk to her. She wouldn’t be interested in him. He was plain old Michael Johns who lived in a rented council flat on Dog Kennel Hill Estate and who hadn’t driven a car in a year. Women were supposed to love money, power, and confidence, yet Michael was all too aware that he possessed none of the above. But he did have bushy eyebrows though. And for reasons unknown to him, he’d never had much trouble attracting the ladies.

Take Jen.

Beautiful and sexy Jen. Lovely flowing hair and gorgeous shapely thighs you could die for. He’d met Jen outside Tesco’s where a large (large in the muscley sense) bloke seemed to be hassling her for her number. She was rolling her eyes and checking her watch as the man seemed to reel off a 101 reasons why she should hand over her phone number to him. Michael without even thinking blurted out a loud ‘Babe, there you are! Hurry up love, the kids are in the Merc causing major havoc!’ as he proffered his hand. She took his hand, a plastic smile on her face, perhaps not knowing if he indeed was going to be worse than the guy she was currently trying to get away from. But taking the chance on him nevertheless.

‘You saved me,’ she’d said that night as they had dinner and she joked about how their fictional car had been a Merc and not a Mondeo. They’d started out as friends but then one night things went beyond the realms of purely platonic. Part of Michael wished that their friendship has stayed at just that, especially when Jen started dropping hints that she was ready for a proper relationship. And for a while, he allowed his ego to sing at the thought of this beautiful girl wanting him, but soon fear began to take him over. Their ‘relationship’ could never go further anytime soon. For a start, what could he offer her?

Now, sitting on the bus, Michael decided to make a little detour into Camberwell and pay Jen a visit. Perhaps the green-eyed girl had stirred him up a bit because it was very rare for him to call Jen from work and say, ‘Can I come over, tonight?’ It was usually Jen calling him up and telling him how much she needed him.

He buzzed the intercom and, as always, Jen was ready and waiting at the door for him as soon as he reached the top of the communal staircase. But instead of appearing in the silky black and gold pyjamas she normally changed straight into as soon as she got home, she was still in her work clothes, a sharp-looking trouser-and-waistcoat combo.

‘Hi,’ she said. She smelt delicious. He reached over to kiss her, but she shifted her head slightly.

‘You look nice. And you smell good too. All peachy.’

‘Papaya, actually.’

Jen didn’t say much as she disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with two plates on which sat an ‘M&S special’, accompanied by a tub of hummus, even though she knew he hated the stuff.

Michael began to eat, feeling her eyes boring into him. It would have felt unnerving if he hadn’t been so hungry.

They hardly spoke during the meal, and no sooner had he finished his last mouthful than she reached over to clear his plate. He attempted to circle her waist with his hands but she removed them slowly.

‘We need to talk, Michael’

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

‘This is serious.’

She dragged her chair closer to his. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, forcing him to make eye contact.

‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘You know what I mean.’

He knew all too well. They’d been here once before, yes, he remembered now–about a year ago.

‘You said six months.’

‘I know…’

‘That was two years ago, Michael.’

Two years? ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ she replied sharply. ‘I’ve known you for three years now.’

He hadn’t realized it had been that long.

‘“Just give me another six months or so to sort myself out,” you said. “Then we can be a couple.”’

Michael felt utterly and totally in a bind. At the time he was sure he’d meant it. Hoping to have improved his living/job/financial status somewhat, but, as that had yet to materialize, well…

‘Well?’ she folded her arms, and Michael swallowed. ‘I need to know we are going somewhere. That this…this relationship, if you can call it that, is leading us to something bigger…’

‘I just need time,’ he said.

‘Yeah, another few months,’ said Jen, clasping her arms even tighter.

‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘Because when is it ever going to be the right time? You seem to think we have all the time in the world! That when you decide you are ready, things will just snap into place!’

Sounded feasible to him.

‘I think I need to wake up and realize that I’m not it, am I?’ she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. Michael hoped she wasn’t about to cry. He couldn’t handle that.

‘What aren’t you?’

‘I’m not The One. If I was, you wouldn’t need to make all these excuses, we’d just be together. It shouldn’t be this hard, Michael.’ She sighed heavily.

‘You know I don’t believe in all that “The One” stuff, Jen. Come on…’ He extended his arm in a warm gesture, but she just looked at him blankly.

‘Just think about what I’m saying, Michael.’

He looked at Jen and knew that if he began to explain, she just wouldn’t understand.

‘Michael, I am not getting any younger–neither of us are. And I’m sick of waiting. For some reason you seem to think we have all the time in the world. Newsflash: We don’t!’

‘Jen–’

‘I’m sick of you coming round here when you please, without a thought for me. I don’t even have a toothbrush at your flat! You don’t even like me coming over!’

Because, he wanted to reply, my flat could double up as a rubbish tip and I’d much rather you didn’t see it. Especially as you own your own flat, drive a decent car and buy your hair stuff from Self ridges! Whilst I don’t have anything to give you really. Nothing of value. Not at the moment anyway, but someday. Soon. Definitely.

Yes, when he got his act together, things would be different and only then would he begin to live the life he’d always craved–now he just had to tell Jen that, knowing that he’d probably sound like a commitment-phobe.

She continued. ‘And I’ve only met your family twice. Both times in the supermarket. By accident!’

‘Well it’s not as if we’re in a proper re–’

The expression on her face switched to frightened anguish…and so he shut up.

‘What did you say?’ Her eyes squinted and then widened just as quickly. ‘What am I doing?’ she said to herself with a hint of resolution.

She ran her hands through her hair as if to physically get her head straight.

‘What am I doing?’ she reiterated.

‘Jen…’

‘Michael, please leave,’ she then said, her demeanour suddenly composed.

‘Jen, I’m sorry,’ he said, meaning it. Making her all upset was never part of the plan; he still cared about her after all.

‘No, I’m sorry. It’s over, Michael.’

As he walked the short walk from the bus stop to his flat, he realized that, whilst he’d hated hurting Jen, he couldn’t shake off the huge feeling of relief he’d felt ever since she’d said; ‘It’s over,’ just over thirty minutes ago. They’d hugged, she’d stuffed a couple of gifts he’d given her into his pocket, and they’d said their goodbyes like the civilized human beings they were. It felt right. And if it felt right, then it must be…right. Jen was a nice enough girl and he really hoped she would find someone else. A bloke who would appreciate her more and be able to give her what she needed. And she would, he was sure of that. In fact, he had to believe that, otherwise he’d feel like the biggest bastard ever to have walked the streets of South-East London.

So, he was free to focus on what really counted at the moment: getting a promotion, moving out of the flat and into his own home; oh, and mustering up the motivation to put those wheels into some type of credible motion.

And he would find it.

Somewhere.

He hoped.

FOUR

Two and a half weeks later…

‘She just looks asleep to me,’ said Ade.

‘Peaceful,’ said the nurse.

‘Do you think so?’

‘Serene even,’ she added.

‘I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.’

‘Oh, give me a break! She looks far from beautiful hooked up to a tube and I’d much prefer it if you stopped talking about her like she’s dead! She’s just been asleep for a while, that’s all!’ Eleven days, actually. ‘And she’s not going to be here much longer, either. Doesn’t anybody get that?’ Now Cara was feeling irritated. Again. In fact her moods switched from hopeful, to hopeless, to frightened, to angry, and all the way through to irritated. She was beginning to forget who she was.

‘No, you’re right,’ said Ade awkwardly as the nurse with the northern accent shifted nervously on her feet, as if to say, ‘who are you trying to kid? The longer this girl stays like this, the worse it will be for her when she finally comes round.’

But Cara knew different. She knew that Lena would soon be out of that manky bed and safely following her round a branch of Kurt Geiger ready to spell out the disadvantages of spending £150 on a pair of killer heels when half of that money could be used to buy a couple of goats for a third world village. Then they’d go to Lena’s favourite cheapo noodle bar off Old Compton Street where Millie would show up late with no money and Cara would turn her nose up at every limp and greasy dish, wishing she was in her favourite local Thai restaurant instead, with its nicely dressed waitresses and dishes that sounded like islands. They’d eat, then chat for a bit, before each rushing off to start their night shifts: Cara at the bar, Millie off out with her mates (along with a loan from Lena), and Lena to the kids’ telephone helpline where she had worked for the past four years. Funny, the last time the three of them had managed to get together at the Noodle Bar was just before the accident.

Cara turned her gaze away from her sister lying on that bed, hair in a multicoloured Alice band, and gazed around the hospital room. She hated hospitals, she decided. Luckily she hadn’t had much to do with them over the years, apart from the obligatory visit when one of her friends had a kid. She’d rush in, armed with flowers and a teddy bear (which Ade had bought), counting the minutes until she could leave.

This time, though, she was going nowhere.

She’d been in every day for almost two weeks now and was getting used to the sight of people rushing about armed with flowers, their faces painted with worry, fresh-faced junior doctors with spiky hair studying charts, consultants swanning about with an air of self-assured arrogance. She was a part of that now, and not just some bystander who’d happened to tune into a rerun of ER. This was real life. This was her life. For now.

Thankfully, her sister’s hospital room was away from everything and looked clean at least. But it was bland and lifeless. There was a small window and a tiny side-cabinet on which stood a small vase containing a less-than-fresh arrangement of flowers, lemongrass oil moisturizer for Lena’s hair, Vaseline for her lips, cocoa butter, a plastic comb, and a box of pink and yellow tissues.

The walls were a beigy neutral colour and a faded picture of a Victorian bloke with a huge nose hung on one of the walls–an attempt to bring some cheeriness into the room.

‘We need to stay positive, yes. We have to.’ Ade’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She hated that he didn’t sound convinced. Was she the only one who knew her sister would soon wake up? The doctors were hopeful. Lena was breathing for herself. Things had improved. Okay, stayed the same–but she was hopeful, and she didn’t need anybody telling her different or she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. People needed to stay positive. For Lena. For her…

Time at the hospital involved sitting by the bed, willing Lena to wake up, and trying to work out how this had all happened. Why her sister was asleep on an alien bed underneath a picture of some bloke they didn’t even know the name of. Why, why, why? She knew it was doing no good asking such questions, but it just felt easier to turn her thoughts into anger and then direct them at a certain person. Justin. Lena’s boyfriend, who was, as far as she knew, the last person to see her awake. She swallowed hard, and tried to push him from her mind. He’d keep.

Instead, she thought about the bar and when she could put in a shift. This was important for two reasons: 1. She would probably go mad with all the things festering in her mind as she sat by the bed every moment of every day, thinking about the whys and the what-ifs; 2. The barmaid Eliza (Doolittle), currently left in charge with Ade, would probably bring them one step closer to bankruptcy, what with the amount of glasses she got through in a day. So, no, going back to work by no means meant she was giving up on Lena, no matter what that tiny voice in her head kept on saying. She’d do a few shifts, whilst still coming to the hospital every single day to see her sister.

Cara ran a beautifully manicured hand through her short crop and wondered where on earth her other sister–Millie–had got to. She was meant to be here by now and was late.

‘I thought your sister was supposed to be here?’ Nurse Gratten remarked, as if reading her thoughts. Cara ignored her and peered at her watch again, wondering where indeed her irresponsible little sister had got to. Or rather, into whose bed she’d climbed.

‘Cara…’ began Ade in a ‘I want to chastise you like a little kid for ignoring the lovely nurse, but we’re in a public place and oh, I should know better than to try that, if I ever want to share a bed with you again’ voice.

‘Ade’, Cara interrupted him, ‘this is the third time she’s been late. Doesn’t she get it? Lena’s stuck in here and yet that doesn’t seem like a big enough disaster to force her to get her act together. She’s such a kid!’

‘Don’t upset yourself.’

‘I can’t get any more upset! We’ve a bar to run and she can’t just swan in when she feels like it!’ she snapped. She was aware she was taking her feelings out on the wrong person, but she also knew Ade could take it. They’d been together for over ten years; he knew her ways. And he knew how much she loved him.

‘She’ll be here,’ whispered Ade into her ear, his taut, strong arms enveloping her in a hug. At well over six foot tall, Ade was strong enough to hold onto her, whether she resisted or not. But it was as if she needed to resist in order to fully appreciate what he was offering: love, protection, safety.

He held onto her before she managed to pull away from him and turn her gaze back to Lena and the situation as a whole.

Actually, the whole situation was ridiculous. Lena, the most careful person in the whole world–she wrote lists, for Pete’s sake!–tripping over a shoe, indeed (a bloody shoe?)! Falling down the stairs. Ending up in this hospital bed. Hard to believe, yet it was all so very, very real. The doctors had tried everything they could but nothing seemed to be working with Lena. And, as each day passed, she could see the doctor with the bad teeth becoming ever more doubtful as her sister remained in that deep sleep, fed by a nasogastric tube, the odd reflex action reminding family and friends gathered around that she was actually still alive.

‘Damn it. Damn all of it. That shoe. Justin, for being a crap boyfriend and not looking out for her! What was he thinking?’ she said hoarsely.

‘Let’s all just calm down a bit,’ said Nurse Gratten, as Cara made a mental note to put in a complaint about her as soon as Lena was discharged from this dump of a hospital. About what, she wasn’t yet sure, but someone had to pay for this. Of course she knew she was sounding irrational, but nothing felt rational any more.

‘There’s a lot of research that says Lena can hear everything you’re saying, so try and keep it…’ She looked towards them, and perhaps remembering her place, relaxed a bit. ‘Let’s all stay calm, for Lena. She needs us all to be strong.’

Friends and colleagues of Lena had trickled in to the hospital in the first week to see her, but Cara had found it difficult to converse with the unfamiliar faces. Eventually, they stopped coming. Who could blame them, though? They had their lives to lead. The only people Lena needed were her two sisters and Ade–everyone else (and that included the handful of aunties that resided in Southampton) were mere acquaintances. So nowadays, in Lena’s room, all she could expect was the sound of her own voice as she muttered words of encouragement to her sister or the clicking tap-tap of shoes travelling up and down the corridor outside the room. Whenever she, Ade, and Millie sat together, none of them really knew what to say. No one really wanting to look at Lena because to look at her would make it all seem real.

Ade rushed off to get her a coffee whilst Nurse Gratten muttered something about seeing to the other patients–and at last Cara was alone with her beloved sister in that room.

Just the way she preferred it.

Cara clutched her hand. Lena’s nails were uneven and cracked. A stark contrast to her own manicured fingers. She wasn’t going to cry–no, she’d never do that, but that didn’t stop her fantasizing about what it would be like to just lose herself into a dark, dark place, away from the hospital, where she’d be free to just release a plethora of emotion, and perhaps even let a few tears flow. But she wasn’t sure what that would look like, how it would feel…and she’d learnt a long time ago that showing weakness and emotion was never productive. She had to keep it together. For Lena’s sake and for her own.

‘How are you, sis?’ she said. She often spoke to Lena when no one was around. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she figured if Nurse Gratten was right about the research then Lena could perhaps hear and if she could…well, she might want to hear her sister Cara’s voice.

Cara racked her brain and wondered what she should talk about. She’d long since run out of ‘niceties’ days ago–and she now longed to tell Lena all about her worries and her fears. But if she did that then she’d be waiting for Lena to solve everything–something she’d always done in the past. Petty things like small rows with Ade, bar stuff, or that ‘crisis’ she’d had when she’d forgotten her car keys and Lena had had to leave work to drop the spare set off at the bar. At the time, such issues seemed like the most important thing in the world and now…they were nothing.

She sighed deeply, recalling the day she’d just picked up her new souped-up coffee-coloured Mini from Kentish Town, complete with black leather seats, alloy wheels and built-in sat nav. It had to be one of the last times she’d seen Lena. Cara had picked her up for a trip to Tesco’s but her main motivation had been to show the car off to her sister. Yet predictably, Lena wasn’t that impressed (commenting on how the twenty grand she’d paid for it could have fed a million people, or something). Lena was going on about some bloke she’d met on the bus into work, talking about the possibility of changing her route because of him. Yet, Cara couldn’t recall if the man was harassing her or what. She just couldn’t remember much about that time, more concerned with bragging about her new car and latest pair of killer heels. Things that just didn’t matter now. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to remember in more detail what they had spoken about that day. The man. What Lena had wanted to eat that night–anything that could make her feel more connected to Lena; because, at that moment, she’d never felt more alone.

She wracked her brain, but all she could recall was Lena buying a birthday card and then guiltily she heard her own voice, complaining about the bar, talking about herself and not listening at all to Lena.

Surely it hadn’t been that way?

Cara squeezed her sister’s hand. Typical Lena Curtis, always thinking of others. Every time someone’s birthday came around (and they seemed to be on a continual loop), or a kid popped into the world, Lena was always the first with a card, a gift, and a kind word. She never forgot anything or anyone. She seemed to live by her lists. Always planning stuff and scribbling away in her beloved notebook. On numerous occasions, Cara had pointed out the existence of a diary and memo function on her phone, but no, Lena insisted on writing things down. She hated to forget anything.

Bet this wasn’t on the list, big sis, thought Cara sadly as she gazed towards Lena. Her Corkscrew high-lighted curls were still radiant in the light. Once as a teenager, Lena had dyed bits of her hair blue. Her cheeky sense of fun was totally at odds with her sensible self. Yes, Lena was the sensible one, whilst Cara took risks. Millie however…well Millie was just Millie.

Ade returned with the coffee. ‘I just got a call back from that hotel in Brazil.’

‘Oh right,’ she replied with a yawn.

‘Your mother’s already moved on from there and gone elsewhere.’

‘Where to?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s gone to stay with a friend? Does she know any one in Rio de Janeiro? São Paulo?’

‘How should I know? I mean, how hard is it to find one pensioner?’

‘Brazil’s a big place, babe.’

She knew what Ade was thinking. In his head, he was imagining his own close-knit ‘can’t fart without the other knowing’ family. They regularly got together, phoned each other, and knew exactly what everyone was doing. This felt alien to Cara. If one of Ade’s family was ever in trouble, the whole clan would gather immediately to sort things out. She knew he found it difficult to comprehend how she could not have taken down the address of her mother’s hotels as she gallivanted around Brazil. But the truth was, the only person who would have bothered would have been Lena.

‘I hope she gets back soon. She’ll be devastated to know Lena’s been like this for almost two weeks without her knowing,’ he sighed.

‘Don’t bank on it. This is just typical behaviour for her, putting herself first. Even when her daughter’s in hospital, she just can’t be bothered,’ Cara burst out, then immediately felt guilty. Lena didn’t need to hear that.

‘We’ll find her okay?’ assured Ade, gently rubbing her tense shoulder.

But Cara turned back to look at her sister and felt more than a little bit hopeless.

FIVE

‘MILLIE!!!’

‘Huh? Cara?’ said Millie into her mobile phone as she switched off the vacuum cleaner.

‘I’ve been calling you for the last half an hour!’

‘I was hoovering.’

‘Now I know you’re lying!’

‘I was!’ protested Millie.

‘I don’t care! Just get your skinny arse over to the hospital, right NOW!’

‘Has something happened?’ She froze.

‘We’ve been waiting for you for ages and Ade and I have to get to the bar!’

‘Oh that.’ She wondered why the poxy bar couldn’t just wait. Surely Lena was more important?

‘I’m sorry, Cara, I forgot,’

‘That your sister’s in hospital?’

‘No! Of course not!’ Millie really wished she could stand up to Cara, just this once.

‘Get down here, Millie!’

Her heart sank at the thought of another ‘shift’ at the hospital. It wasn’t that she resented going, it was so much more than that.

She packed the vacuum cleaner away and pushed a pile of magazines under her bed. She’d tidied up her room the best she could and made a slight dent on the lounge, which in Lena’s absence had begun to resemble a pigsty. Cara was right about one thing–she didn’t do cleaning. But with all that was going on, it really helped to keep busy–especially as she still didn’t have a job. Besides. Lena would need a clean house to come home to. So, perhaps in a day or two, she’d even tackle the bathroom, spare room, and maybe even the kitchen. Lena’s room would remain the same, though, just as she’d left it. In fact, Millie hadn’t been in that room since Lena’s accident.

She freshened up and slid into a pair of skinny jeans, running a tube of lip gloss over her full lips. She looked good. Presentable. Sexy even. And her arse was far from skinny–more shapely and firm, apparently, judging from the reaction of the builders renovating the house a few doors down. Millie grabbed her handbag off the floor and glanced round proudly at her almost tidy bedroom. The place definitely needed a dust–now if she could only find out where Lena kept that huge green feather duster she used every Sunday as she listened to her MP3 player, singing at the top of her voice. Millie giggled, picturing the image in her head–Lena wasn’t the greatest singer!

As she turned to leave, Millie caught the glimmer of something shimmery on top of the television and spotted Rik’s watch. He’d have to come back now, she thought, with a lurch of excitement.

Millie blocked out Cara’s whingeing as she placed a finger softy onto Lena’s cheek. It wasn’t cold. She always expected it to be.

‘Are you even listening to me, Millie?’ questioned Cara. She’d been moaning about her lateness and how she needed to be at the bar, blah, blah, blah. Millie could never win with Cara.

‘I am listening,’ she replied with a sigh. Actually, Millie had been trying to remember the last telephone conversation she’d had with Lena, but she couldn’t. Had it been after her shopping spree at the pound shop, when Lena had called to see if she was all right because she’d been stood up by Rik the night before? No…it was some time after that in the form of a text. Yes, that was it. Lena had done a load of shifts at Kidzline, one after the other, whilst Millie had been spending quite a bit of time at Rik’s. Their paths weren’t crossing much, even though they lived in the same house, but Millie remembered Lena sending a text one day just before the accident. She’d read and deleted it straight away, though, because her phone was running out of memory space, which had been taken up with all the texts she’d kept of Rik’s. Now, she felt her throat constrict as she remembered with absolute clarity what it had said: ‘I miss you, little sis. Lets have breakfast sometime!’

She suddenly began to recall all the times she’d ignore her sister’s calls and texts when she’d decided to go AWOL because of some guy. Yet, when she got kicked out of her bedsit, Lena had been the first one there for her whilst Cara had just berated her for being so irresponsible. And when each and every boyfriend dumped her, Lena was the one to hold her, smooth down her soft curls, wet with tears, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. Just like when they were kids.

‘I just wish this hadn’t happened,’ Millie said helplessly. She waited for a dig from Cara, who actually surprised her for once.

‘Don’t we all,’ she said wearily as they both stared at Lena, as if the joint force of their stare could magically force her eyes open and they would once again see those beautiful emeraldy-green sparklers. To think, as a child, Millie believed they made her older sister look like an alien.

‘Hurry up and get out of this…Please. I–we–need you, Lena.’ She placed a hand on her sister’s arm but, instead of being overcome with the usual sadness, Millie was gripped by a new but just as powerful emotion that swished about inside of her; holding on so possessively, she missed a few breaths.

Guilt.

What Cara felt, she didn’t know, but for her, it was definitely guilt.

The sprawling four-bedroomed house on Underhill Road was where they had grown up and spent their entire childhoods. It had a wooden gate at the front of a small garden that matched most of the other houses on the street. Now though, it seemed to stand out more, as the Curtis household was one of the few that had retained the original layout, as most of the others had been converted into flats.

Now, without Lena, the house felt incredibly lonely. Admittedly, since moving in again, it had only been the two of them–once the lodger Meg had moved on–but Lena had this ability to make it seem like the house was full again. She was like a huge rainbow of light, with flashes of stars sprinkling all around whenever she walked into a room. Not just because of her eyes, but the mad hair, often bunched into a hairband or up in a ponytail (which Millie hated). She always seemed to be in that suede gilet with the fur trim, multicoloured scarf, jeans skirt or bootcut jeans and those massive Uggs she seemed to live in; not because they were fashionable, but because they were comfy. How Millie hated those boots! Millie scrolled down to ‘Lena’ on her mobile, and called the number for the third time, waiting to hear her sister’s answerphone message.

‘Hi, it’s Lena. Leave a short message and I will get back to you. Thanks for calling. Bur bye!’

She dialled again.

‘Hi, it’s Lena. Leave a short message and I will get back to you. Thanks for calling. Bur bye!’

And again.

‘Hi, it’s Lena. Leave a short message and I will get back to you. Thanks for calling. Bur bye!’

She’d called the number every day for the past week, hoping that Lena might actually answer with a noisy laugh, claiming a well-deserved victory in the biggest wind-up ever, admitting that the last two weeks had been a joke.

Millie scrolled down to ‘S’ on her phone. No, she wouldn’t. Not yet. In fact, she was going to do everything in her limited power NOT to do THAT this time. So what if her sister was in a deep sleep? Or that she was alone, jobless and without a boyfriend? She was not going ‘there’.

She glanced around her room, which was now neat enough after the overdue trip to the launderette, the rest of her clothes now packed into her wardrobe and out of the suitcases they’d lived in ever since she’d got thrown out. That hadn’t been her fault, though–she’d defaulted on a couple of months’ rent because her benefit had stopped when she’d found a job. No one had bothered to tell her she’d have to start paying full rent immediately, had they? Lena had bailed her out of that mess by letting her stay after the lodger had left. As always, Lena had been there for her. And, as usual, she’d repaid her by not helping out around the house or even attempting to cook a meal with which to present Lena after one of her long and demanding shifts at Kidzline. Sometimes she didn’t get home until 11 p.m.

Millie smiled bitterly, knowing that she would actually give everything she owned just to have Lena back here, nagging at her to do the washing-up or clean the hair out of the plughole in the bath. She missed her sister furiously scribbling away in that little notebook of hers. She missed the way that they could never walk past a charity shop without Lena wanting to wander in and look at a rusty old mirror or a Victorian tea set whilst Millie would much rather drop into Peacock’s or New Look.

She missed everything about her big sister and, lying in her bed alone in the house, Millie had never felt more lonely in her entire life.

Cara on the other hand was currently experiencing the luxury of ‘forgetting’–albeit temporarily, as she rushed about the bar, in chef/barmaid/boss mode. Mixing June bugs, Mojitos and Caipirinhas; making sure table six got their bar-food platter and keeping one eye on Eliza. So not until the end of her first full shift back, when the bar was locked up for the night and she drove the short distance home, did she begin to think about Lena. She felt a little guilty at this, as she flashed her security pass and the gate opened to let the car through. Shouldn’t she be thinking of Lena 24/7?

Ade was home and, judging by the smell, had prepared something delicious. She slipped out of her ‘bar clothes’ and changed into the pretty silk pyjamas that Ade had bought her two Valentines ago. She hoped he wouldn’t see this as a signal for any midnight loving–she was knackered. Her body had got used to the lack of pace and she needed time to readjust.

‘Have you spoken to Justin, lately?’ asked Ade as they settled on their huge comfy sofa.

‘No, I haven’t. Why should I?’

‘Because he’s Lena’s boyfriend. We should be supporting him.’

‘Don’t start, Ade, I’ve had a long day.’

‘I’m just saying. We should be there for him.’

‘Why? You’ve never got on with him,’ she said, tucking her tiny feet under her.

‘Of course I do!’

‘Only when you found out he was into basketball. How many men in this country are? You had no choice.’

‘He’s Lena’s boyfriend, Cara.’

‘You think I’m going to forget that? Luckily, he is such a coward, I hardly ever see him at the hospital.’

‘That’s just his way of dealing with it.’

‘Ade, I really hate the way he treated Lena. He always took her for granted, for a start. Lena mentioned a couple of times that it was really getting her down.’

‘What did she say?’

Cara cast her mind backwards, finding it funny that she could not remember any recent stuff but incidents from months before–that was easy…

It had been a particularly busy night at A&R. Some blokes had decided to start their stag night there, which meant all hands on deck, especially as Ade was at his mum’s doing some errand. Lena had bounced in, all smiles, asking for her usual ginger beer, ice and a slice of lemon.

‘Hold on a sec, sis, just need to serve that table these beers. Give me one second,’ said Cara, expertly placing four bottles of beers between her fingers.

‘Come on, darling, give us a dance!’ leered one of the blokes.

‘You’re in the wrong place, mate. But I’m sure Spearmint Rhino can oblige,’ she replied as politely as she could.

‘I like my girls tiny and sweet, like you!’ he replied, which was fine, save for the hand on her thigh.

She moved her face close to his and whispered in his ear as the crowd seemed to erupt in ‘wey–heys’ and guffaws. ‘If you don’t take your manky little hand off my thigh, the heel of my stiletto will connect nicely with your tiny little balls. Understand?’ she smiled as he pulled away and his hand quickly retreated from her thigh. ‘Right, anything else boys?’

Lena was still seated on one of the stools and had finished the ginger beer.

‘Want another?’

‘No thanks. I would like some advice though.’

‘On…?’

‘Relationships…And keeping them alive,’ added Lena.

‘Well, I just tell Ade what to do and he does it.’ Cara said playfully.

‘I’m serious, Cara! Me and Justin have been drifting apart lately. It’s like he doesn’t even notice I’m in the room sometimes. He’s always working and I know I can be just as bad…but I wish he’d just talk to me…’

Eliza appeared with a worried look. ‘Someone’s been sick in the Gents’,’ she announced.

‘Then clean it up! Isn’t that what I pay you for?’ Cara said irritably.

‘Erm, I tried but…’

‘I’ll do it! Look Lena, can we finish this conversation later?’

‘But I’m planning a special dinner for Justin later. I just wanted a few pointers, you know, on being extra romantic’

‘You’ll be fine. Listen can I call you later? Sorry sis.’

‘He was always taking her for granted,’ said Cara angrily, deep down knowing that maybe she was no better. ‘And she didn’t deserve that. Now if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about that loser on my night off.’

‘All right.’

She knew it wasn’t ‘all right’, but Ade knew better than to contradict her on the subject of Lena’s boyfriend. She just didn’t like him. And no sweet words from Ade would change that. In fact, knowing just how bad Justin had been as a boyfriend made her appreciate Ade more. Ade was gorgeous. Well, certainly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Perfection inside and out and she loved him with everything she had, knowing she’d have sunk without a murmur over the last two weeks, if it hadn’t been for him. He was a part of her family, well, what was left of it. Both her parents were now enjoying new lives that didn’t seem to involve her, Millie, or Lena. Their father had moved to America about ten years ago, as soon as the ink was dry on the divorce papers, and was now living it up with his new family. Millie and Lena had maintained a bit of contact in the beginning, but that all stopped eventually–he just didn’t want to know. As for their mother–there was still no word from her as she currently gallivanted around Brazil. Ever since she’d moved to Southampton five years ago, it was as if she’d rediscovered her youth, jetting off all over the world. Of course remortgaging her house and leaving poor Lena to pay the ensuing bills allowed her to do that.

Cara got up and padded into their bathroom, a beige and cream marble affair that she’d insisted should look identical to the one in the show house they had seen. The only thing missing was the His ‘n’ Hers washbasin. She peered at herself in the large mirror. Her hair would soon need trimming, but it still looked okay; her eyebrows were a perfect arch shape. To the outside world she was the Boss Lady Cara–not to be messed with and always able to deal with whatever life threw at her.

When she returned to the living room, Ade was lying patiently on the couch and she curled up in his arms and twisted her head round to look up at his smile. She loved him so much and thought back over the last few days to how spiteful she’d been to him. She’d taken out her hurt and anger on Ade and suddenly Cara felt bad about that.

Her mind drifted back to a few weeks ago; she was sitting on the very same couch waiting for her dinner to cook, thinking how lucky she was to have almost everything she’d ever desired.

Now, though there was a great big gaping hole in her life.

A space that could only be filled by Lena.

SIX

The sun was shining over the inhabitants of Dog Kennel Hill Estate and for a moment, Michael let the warmth of it spread across his face, cheering him momentarily before he realized how heavy-headed he felt due to yet another broken night of sleep.

In the past, Michael had found a strange type of reassurance in knowing how his day would start, proceed, and end, and he’d no reason to believe today would be any different (unless of course he saw the girl on the bus again). Basically his working day would be as follows; arrive at the building with just over eight minutes to spare, pass the elderly security guard, catch the lift to the second floor, ignore the receptionist’s plastic smile, and be at his desk on time and ready to be part of the (at times mundane) working day. For the most part, he would do as he was told and give the minimum standard of service. This wasn’t to say he was a bad worker–more average. Working to rule and not going beyond any calls of duty. If a problem arose, he’d deal with it efficiently and with a smile, pretending the sales figures in front of him were the most important thing in his life. At one o’clock sharp, he could be found eating lunch in one of the overpriced cafes across the road. He’d perhaps buy a tabloid if he’d finished with the Metro on the way in and then get annoyed at the story of yet another overpaid ‘celebrity’ flaunting their wealth. The remainder of work time was spent clock-watching, working and peeking a look at holiday websites. Back home at his flat, after he had picked up a takeaway, he would doze in front of the television, remote control in hand, knowing he wouldn’t be getting a good night’s sleep that night’s whilst trying not to worry about it.

The one saving grace in his life seemed to be his sister Charlotte and her two kids, but at times even she would make him feel on a downer. Of course it wasn’t her fault. It was just that when he saw how hard she struggled to bring up two kids on her own, it irked him massively that he couldn’t put his hand in his pocket and really help her out. Bung her some cash to pay the latest set of bills or give her a few hundred pounds to go away with the kids for a break. He was a totally useless brother and seeing Charlotte and the kids just seemed to amplify his inadequacies. However, he’d promised to fix the light switch in George’s bedroom and he was sure he could do that much.

‘Glad you came over; the kids miss you!’ his sister said warmly as soon as he entered the house.

‘How are the little ankle-biters anyway?’

‘My beloved children are great. Actually George has been playing up lately and I kind of hoped…’

Michael hated it when Charlotte expected him to act as disciplinarian to her four-year-old son George.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too much like a whine.

‘The matter is, when he’s with his father, he’s as good as gold. But when he gets back home to me, he’s a complete sod.’

‘I’ll have a word with him.’ Or perhaps just buy him a packet of chocolate buttons, Michael said to himself. He didn’t want to ‘discipline’ the little man any more than he desired a teeth extraction. What the kid really needed was his dad around–even Michael could see that or even just a male to look up to…Once things got better for Michael, he’d take George every other weekend and they could have a boy’s night in, hitch up a tent in front of the telly and pretend to hunt dinosaurs. But for now, he never wanted George setting foot in his dingy flat in Dog Kennel Hill. He’d have to wait until he bought a house. Perhaps one with a garden and they could go camping for real. He couldn’t wait for that!

For the time being, Michael did manage to mumble a few things to George that sounded mildly stern, confining him to his room as punishment, satisfied with his work until he remembered that said room contained a box full of toys and possibly a bag of Haribos.

Uncle duty done, Michael headed back to Charlotte and Serena in the lounge.

‘Did you sort him out?’

‘Yes, I did,’ he replied, sitting on the sofa and absently sorting through the pile of magazines on the side table. Charlotte was forever reading self-help books, magazines, basic tosh.

‘So, you’ve finished with Jen then?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, as his eyes glanced over a couple of psychology magazines.

‘So, you’re a commitment-phobe?’

‘No, Charl.’ Michael picked up a day-old newspaper from the sideboard, revealing a stack of papers and leaflets beneath it including some money-off coupons for Tesco and an Argos catalogue followed.

‘You were together with Jen all that time and I didn’t even meet her! Oh I take that back–I saw her in the supermarket once!’

‘It wasn’t anything personal,’ he insisted, to no avail. He knew Charlotte had already made up her mind. He was used to Charlotte analysing him every time he came to visit.

‘Mumma!’ wailed fourteen-month-old Serena again and again, repeating it in blocks of ten, effectively drowning out Charlotte’s voice.

‘Yes, I know it’s your new word, but I’m trying to speak to your uncle!’ laughed Charlotte. ‘I can’t believe she now calls me Mumma instead of just Dadda. Result!’

‘It is,’ said Michael, genuinely touched by his niece.

‘And you, my love, have a stinky nappy,’ she said, lifting Serena’s bottom in the air and sniffing it. Charlotte headed out of the room, her daughter tucked under her arm.

The silence did not last long. ‘Hello, Uncle Mike, Mummy says I can come back,’ said George, walking in, looking remarkably composed after his ‘telling off’. ‘You dropped this,’ he added as he bent to pick up a small card.

‘Must have slipped out from one of the magazines. Your mum has loads of them.’

‘She said when Dr Phil comes back on, she won’t read lots. What’s Dr Phil?’

Michael shrugged as he took the card from George.

‘Your sister’s asleep in her cot, so keep the noise down,’ said Charlotte when she returned. ‘Knocked out by her own pong, that one. Now where were we?’

Michael was busy studying the orange card–for Kidzline, a children’s charity–and felt a pang of familiarity as he flipped over the card and studied the caption: ‘Only a phonecall away’.

SEVEN

Cara sat on a bench, overlooking the entrance to the hospital.

Ade had given Cara the warning that her mother was on her way. He’d even predicted how long it would take the taxi to arrive from the airport–and he’d been almost spot-on. The black cab pulled up outside Fen Lane Hospital and Cara watched as a woman, just a bit taller than herself, stepped elegantly out of the vehicle like a movie star at a premiere. But instead of the paparazzi flashes, the sky lit up with small bolts of lightning. Instead of the roar of an adoring crowd, there was the wailing of an ambulance siren getting louder and louder as it approached Accident and Emergency. The woman was in her sixties, but looked at least fifteen years younger, complete with a sassy walk of someone half her age.

‘Keep the change, darling,’ she said to the taxi driver in a fake posh accent, smoothing down her bobbed hair.

From the bench Cara was sitting on, she could tell the cabbie was delighted as he placed the shiny silver case and black weekend bag onto the pavement with a cheeky wink.

‘Thanks, luv,’ he said.

The woman pulled out a mirror and lipstick from a tiny silvery handbag and applied a fresh coat. She then looked down at her flat black shoes and grimaced; perhaps missing the feel of a good pair of stilettos against her feet, the way they automatically shaped calves into something sexy and alluring. Possibly the one thing Cara would ever agree on with her.

The woman wiggled slowly towards the reception, her case making a loud, annoying squeak as its wheels rolled along the ground. Cara was tempted to stay put outside, a break from the bleak hospital room, but the sky was darkening as the cracks of thunder grew louder and she knew she’d have to go in and face her mother.

‘Hello, Kitty,’ said Cara, acknowledging how ridiculous it sounded, but determined never to call her mother anything but Kitty.

‘Cara?’ She turned away from the lift and faced her, palm flying across her chest dramatically. In times like this, her mother really reminded her of Millie.

‘Darling, I just got a flight in from Rio. How are you?’

Cara winced at the term ‘darling’.

‘Fine.’ She cleared her throat and made no attempt to embrace her mother.

‘It’s so good to see yer!’ Kitty said, suddenly switching into the not so posh accent Cara was more used to. Kitty opened her arms for an embrace but, as Cara wasn’t moving, the older woman enveloped her in a stiff hug.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ asked Kitty.

‘I said I’m fine. It’s Lena we have to worry about.’ She was definitely fine, even if her tummy was in the middle of some type of semi-spasm. ‘Where have you been?’ she asked curtly.

‘I was in Brazil.’

‘Lena’s been in here for over two weeks.’

‘I only got the message about twenty-four hours ago. Hortense had heard from Ade. Luckily, I was just about to leave the hotel and move on to…well, that doesn’t matter…I’m here now and I just want to see my daughter.’

They had reached Lena’s hospital room now, and as Cara pointed to the door, Kitty slowly opened it, with Cara following slowly behind her. A good position it would seem, as she was the one to catch her as Kitty’s whole body collapsed towards the freshly cleaned hospital floor.

‘Are you okay? Let me get a doctor,’ said Ade. Kitty had been ‘out’ for about three minutes and, after the initial moment of panic, they had managed to move her onto one of the chairs in Lena’s room. Cara was soon wondering what she’d been playing at. Fainting indeed! Any excuse to upstage Lena!

‘Oh…I…I just wasn’t prepared to see my baby girl laid out in the hospital bed like the dearly departed. That’s all,’ she said breathlessly, that posh voice returning.

‘Of course not,’ said Ade, sympathetically.

‘I told you she’d be all right,’ said Cara, who had retreated to the other side of the room in sceptical mode.

‘I’m all right, no need for a doctor,’ insisted Kitty, straightening her hair which Cara now realised with mild horror, was actuallly a wig.

‘I’ll get us all some tea,’ said Ade.

‘I don’t want tea. I just…I just want to see my child.’ Kitty attempted to get up, wobbled a bit, then sat back down dramatically as soon as she clocked Lena again.

‘Take it easy, Mum, please,’ said Ade. Cara tried really hard not to snort at the word ‘Mum’. ‘Let me get you something.’

‘There is something you can do for me, son.’

‘Anything,’ he said, brushing her arm.

‘Just call me Kitty. I know you liked calling me Mum when I used to live here, but, well, you know…’

‘I thought, well I know me and Cara aren’t married yet. I just thought–’

‘Put a sock in it, Ade. Even I call her by her name and I’m her real daughter! It’s what she prefers.’ Cara said briskly.

‘And you have never complained about it before,’ chipped in Kitty.

‘I’ll get those drinks.’ Ade sighed, not sure what to do with himself. ‘Now, are you sure you don’t want me to get a doctor?’ he asked Kitty.

‘I’m in the best place if something were to happen. I just want to be with Lena.’ Kitty slowly stood up and moved over to Lena’s bed. And Cara heard a quick gasp as Kitty slid into the chair and placed her hand on her daughter’s forehead, slowly running her fingers across her skin. With her other hand, she stroked Lena’s frizzy curls and ran a finger across the Alice band that held the strands back from her face.

‘Oh my little sweetheart, what happened?’ She sighed as a single tear plopped onto Lena’s pillow. Cara turned to Ade, who seemed to be taken in by this display, as he looked close to tears himself. Cara didn’t quite know what to say to her mother, who had disappeared for weeks without even bothering to phone or send a postcode. She suddenly felt claustrophobic, and longed for the frenzied normality of A&R.

Ade finally went for the teas as the two women sat in silence, both staring at Lena, Kitty holding onto Lena’s hand.

‘I am so sorry I didn’t get here sooner.’

‘Nothing much else you could have done. We have it covered.’ Cara said curtly.

‘Even now, your mouth is spiteful. Why can’t you be nice, just this once? Your sister is lying here after all!’ Kitty cried out.

Cara wasn’t sure how to answer that, as she was all too aware that she couldn’t think of anything nice to say to Kitty. Some things were best left unsaid.

‘Maybe me being here will help her,’ Kitty added hopefully. ‘What do you think?’

Again, Cara tried to bite her tongue, for Lena’s sake. Because if she did open her mouth she feared she would tell her mother that her presence would probably not help rouse Lena out of the sleep. Why would it? Kitty had hardly ever been around the last few years. And, in fact, even when they were growing up, her presence and input had been minimal.

‘You know where I can find the toilet?’ asked Kitty.

‘Turn right, straight down, first left.’

‘You know your way around here.’

‘I’m here every day,’ she replied, her tone accusing. She wanted to throw missiles at Kitty and she wanted them to hurt.

‘I don’t want to argue with you, Cara.’

‘She’s been here for almost two weeks!’

‘I didn’t get the message! I told you that!’

‘What were you doing, anyway? Gallivanting around Brazil? I thought you’d just got back from Las Vegas a few months ago!’

‘I don’t have to check in with you, Cara.’

‘Of course not, because that would be changing a habit of a lifetime, Kitty!’

‘I got on a flight as soon as I could, with no sleep, and at my age it’s no joke,’ they locked eyes and Cara knew she’d won that round.

‘This is silly. I haven’t got the strength to fight with you, Cara. Please save it for another day.’

Kitty sounded defeated and this put Cara off guard. She was ready to have it out with her, more than ready. It was as if seeing her mother again had bought all the long-since-buried ‘stuff’ to the surface.

* * *

Millie on the other hand, arrived at the hospital dressed in her ‘interview gear’ (skirt and blouse). She was finding it increasingly hard to contain her excitement at the arrival of her mother Kitty. She hadn’t seen her in ages–well not for six months at least, when Lena had insisted that Millie and herself make the trip up to Southampton to see her. She’d gone and spent the day with her mother and Lena and had enjoyed it. The only missing piece of the puzzle, as usual, was Cara.

Millie was glad Kitty was back and they could sort of be a family for a while. The four of them together for the first time in well…ages. However, as Cara was not talking to Kitty and Lena was unable to talk to anyone it didn’t exactly feel like the perfect reunion.

Millie cleared her throat. ‘I wish Dad was around.’

‘What, so we could all be one big happy family?’ replied Cara.

‘He may be a useless excuse for a man, but he has a right to know,’ said Kitty. Even though she was probably right, and even though he’d never made any effort to get in touch over the years, Millie had felt that comment hard, wishing and still hoping after all these years that it wasn’t true. That he wasn’t ‘useless’ and most of all, he still loved them. Loved her.

‘Maybe Lena has his new number,’ offered Cara as she moved a stray curl away from Lena’s closed eyes.

‘In the notebook? But no one’s seen it,’ said Millie.

‘No, in her phone.’

‘Has anyone checked?’ added Kitty, fixing some dangly earrings into her ears.

‘If he gave a damn about anyone but himself, he’d have phoned at some point and we could have told him. Fact is, he just isn’t interested in us. Never has been. Face it,’ said Cara.

Millie felt as though she’d been punched in the face. So what if she wanted her whole family around Lena’s bedside, talking together and being together? Was that so bad? Millie had wanted to call her father as soon as they’d all found out about Lena, but he’d left the country and their lives ten years ago and had not made much contact since. She was only fourteen at the time and on the cusp of womanhood, trying to discover the nature of boys and desperate to leave the confusion of adolescence behind. It had been totally bad timing.

But walking in and seeing her mother had been a nice shock. She’d embraced her tentatively at first, not sure what to say really, but instantly familiarizing herself with Kitty’s usual smell of jasmine. Kitty’s face, as always, was defying the years, but she wore a little more make-up than she really needed.

She was still Kitty, though. Her mum, who for as long as she could remember never really wanted to be called Mum. On the acting circuit she was known as just Kitty and she insisted her kids called her the same. Not that Millie minded, because at school, before the breasts and shapely thighs, Millie’s popularity was through having an actress mum. She wasn’t on the telly, but she’d done a few plays, and once appeared in the background of an orange juice advert. Kitty often flounced into parents’ evening wearing a long dress and frilly hat and talking about auditions and name dropping famous actors who had helped her with her lines. It had all seemed cool at the time, but as Millie grew up, a lot of things including calling her Kitty just felt more and more alienating and maybe just a bit cold.

But none of that mattered now. Kitty was home.

She glanced at her watch, knowing she had missed the interview for the job at Dorothy Perkins and felt a mixture of guilt and relief wash over her. It’s not that she didn’t want a job–she just knew that retail wasn’t for her.

‘So how have you been, Mills?’ asked Kitty.

Her mother had always called her Mills as a little girl and Millie was touched that she was calling her that now.

‘Apart from…you know, everything that’s happened with Lena, I’ve been okay. It has been hard, though.’

In fact, Millie’s life had been more about getting to and from work and trying to keep up with the rent on her bedsit, getting kicked out of said bedsit, getting sacked (again) and moving in with Lena. But Kitty didn’t need to hear all that.

Cara took out a copy of Pride magazine and buried her head in it as Millie updated Kitty on what her life had become–minus the really crappy bits.

As soon as they got back to the house, Kitty went to sleep, jetlag, sadness, and age having taken hold. Millie threw herself onto her bed, strangely yearning for the atmosphere of togetherness that she’d felt in Lena’s hospital room. They were messed up, but they were still a family, she thought as she looked up to the cracked ceiling. Since Lena’s accident, and even before it, the nights had been the worst. With too much time to think, she often wondered whether anyone would ever be capable of loving her.

Or perhaps she was just unlovable.

Perhaps that was it. Her parents had kind of proved that theory a long ago when they’d both upped and left. First their father, Donald Curtis. A towering six-foot-three chunk of a man who never seemed to show them any affection when they were growing up. In fact, Millie had thought their lives quite normal, until one day she’d managed to blag an ‘excellent’ grade for her spelling test whilst her friend Margo only got a ‘satisfactory’. The way Margot’s dad almost hugged the life out of her outside the school gates was a scene Millie would never forget. Especially as when she’d handed over her own certificate to Donald that evening, he’d smiled awkwardly and said ‘Good job’ before going back to his newspaper. At the time, those two words had meant everything to the eleven-year-old Millie and she’d treasured that sky blue certificate as evidence that she could actually please her dad. But three years later, when he divorced the family, those words meant nothing.

It was all right for the other two, they were adults and living away from home, plus, judging from their reactions, they hadn’t seemed that surprised at the split. But to Millie it had been a complete and utter shock. She’d returned home from doing a mock exam to see her father packing his things clumsily into a holdall, driving away in the family Volvo, and promising to call her.

She had felt Donald’s absence hugely–it was a pain that never went away. Kitty on the other hand seemed to be energized by divorce, strutting her stuff around the world before finally escaping to Southampton to ‘find herself’, no doubt. But who was looking out for Millie?

Who would find her?

She turned her gaze to a group shot of her and her mates larking about at a club wearing orange feather boas and bright lipstick. Nikki and Tosin were her friends and they loved her, didn’t they? Or was it all about getting drunk and falling out of nightclubs on the arms of various guys? Lena loved her. But Lena wasn’t here. Not really. And not for the first time in her life, Millie felt incredible pangs of loneliness as she pulled out her mobile and slowly punched in the number, which, unfortunately, she’d come to learn off by heart.

Two rings later. ‘Can I come over?’

‘You can always come over,’ replied the deep voice.

She wiped her face and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. She’d remain in the clothes she’d worn to the hospital, all too aware that dressing up would be pointless. Stewart would provide her with the company she needed. Make her feel loved, wanted and whole–if only for the night. And she would deal with the revulsion in the morning. She wrote a note for Kitty and pinned it onto the fridge door with the orange Kidzline magnet.

Gone out. Back tomorrow morning.

Mills x

EIGHT

The next morning, Millie walked into the house to the sound of a singing Kitty crouched on all fours.

‘I wanted to make myself some breakfast this morning, went to the fridge, and was almost knocked out by the smell!’ she said, head deep into the fridge.

‘It’s not that bad!’ said Millie, placing her handbag onto the wooden table.

‘It is!’ replied Kitty as she stood up and clocked Millie.

‘You look worse than me and I’m jetlagged. Partying, were we?’

‘Of course not!’ replied Millie, a little offended as to why Kitty would think she’d be partying whilst Lena was still in hospital.

‘Millie, surely you’re not so lazy that you can’t clean the fridge?’

Millie stared at the batch of sweet potatoes and the thick ashy mould congregating on them. The garlic and apples were still okay, but the potatoes were definitely on the turn. Kitty grabbed the sponge again and got to work, as Millie remained rooted to the spot. Kitty assumed Millie must have got very slack over the years. But to Millie, these were some of the last things that Lena had bought before going to sleep. She’d picked them out, paid for them, and loaded them into the fridge with her very own hands. Chucking them away would be like chucking out something that Lena had been a part of.

Millie knew it probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone but her, but it was simple; she hadn’t been ready to take that step. Just as she didn’t want to go into Lena’s room.

As Kitty tied up the large bin bag containing the rotting groceries, Millie thought her heart would break. ‘Can you take this downstairs to the wheelie bins?’ Kitty asked her.

Outside, Millie heaved the ‘rubbish’ into the big green bin and slowly shut the lid. It was a sunny day and a car whizzed by with its bass line blasting out. A neighbour two doors down was loading glass bottles into the recycling bin. Life was ticking along as it always did but for Lena, it was as if everything had frozen in time.

If Millie had done a superficial clean of the house, Kitty had made it sparkle. They spent the day together and went food shopping.

‘Lets cook up something lovely for dinner. Cara could come over, too. Would be like old times, us all eating together!’

Millie cast her mind back to their childhood, and remembered the umpteen TV dinners that Lena would dish up whilst their mother went to another audition or just shut herself away in her room. She was too polite now to taint her mother’s rose-tinted memory and didn’t want to spoil what had been a really nice day together.

Millie called Cara, who said she didn’t want any dinner but would need to come over later anyway.

Kitty was packing away the last of the dishes as Cara walked in.

‘I saved you some chicken,’ said Kitty.

‘I’d better not thanks though. Ade’s cooking later. I just came to check things like the bills and bank statements. I’m not even sure if there’s enough money in her account to pay for everything and keep things ticking over while she’s…away.’

‘She’s still getting paid, so there should be,’ added Kitty rather carelessly.

‘Well I’d better check through everything, see if there are any policies to be renewed. Like insurance policies might need to be renewed,’ said Cara as she parked herself on the cosy sofa that had cost twenty pounds in a car-boot sale. ‘You know what Lena was like–is like. She would have everything listed somewhere.’

‘The sensible one of my girls,’ said Kitty, which Cara took instant offence to. ‘Do you know, she has a list of everything that gets paid when, just so she can double-check with the bank? I found it in the drawer in the kitchen. I’ll go and get it.’

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