Sisters 59

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CHAPTER 59
Annie’s face worked once more in little twitches, her breath catching.

“Diane? What….”

“Lainey’s told me it all, or I suppose what she thinks I should know, A—nnie. I didn’t want to rock your boat, and, well, Elaine, this is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it? Not quite what we agreed, not at all”

I knew, just then, that my wife was at my shoulder, just before she murmured “Leave them to it, woman, and we shall have a little word”

I stepped back with her, leaving Annie with Diane and my phone, and Siân began stripping skin from flesh.

“Confidences, eh? Promises made? Other people’s secrets? Getting carried away with things, or just still not thinking straight?”

“I just thought—“

“No. You didn’t think. You let momentum take over, eh? Why didn’t you ring Diane up first, and bloody well ask her if you should do what you just did?”

I tried to stammer something out, but she just muttered “Come here” and took me into a hug, a cuddle a mother would give to an upset child. Her words were soft in my ear.

“Lainey, cariad, I know you meant it for the best, but you have to think on how many lives are involved here. You can’t just steam in like that. Look, what’s done is done now, aye? So let’s leave them to it, let them dance their own dance. We’ve got things to do, people to outrage. Just, tonight, this weekend, talk to me before you get a head of steam up”

She took a long, slow breath. “Wyn was clear, when he spoke to me. You’ve almost had a collapse, he said, and I said it to you: you can’t look after the whole bloody world, and when you try, the way you are now, you’re going to put your foot in it. So stay with me tonight, cariad, smile, dance, but stay by me. Agreed?”

Shit. Even Adele had seen it, and she wasn’t even a copper. I looked over to Annie, and she was just finishing with the phone and walking towards us, eyes sharp under her dark hair.

“That wasn’t agreed beforehand, was it Elaine?”

“ER, no”

“Well, dim ots, as you would no doubt say. We’ve made our peace, aye? And Diane says she knows why you did it, but, well, she’d rather you hadn’t”

Annie looked away, shaking her head, then snapped her gaze back round.

“She wanted to let me have room for my new life, she said, no old ghosts at the banquet, no past monsters coming back to haunt me, and the thing is, that’s what my life has been like for years. Night terrors, aye? Old stories that never got stale”

She shook her head again, almost in disbelief. “We’ll have to go out there some day and meet them all again, no doubt. I don’t know how that will go: BFF or just remembering to send a card at Christmas? She’s been following things, aye, wanted to know all about Den, so I don’t think it would be down to tokenism. Just, Lainey, sweet woman, I know how you meant it, but ask first, aye?”

Yet another shake of her head. “Come on. Time for tea and church stuff.”

She reached out a hand for mine and led my wife and me back to the crowds. The church was indeed crowded that evening, even with what seemed like half our family in the choir stalls, and it was very clear now exactly how well the vicar was getting on with Annie’s cousin. We had hymns, good ones, and we had sermons, from the Vicar and Tony’s little Irish friend, that were cogent and altogether too sensible for them to be anything religious, and there was beer. I decided to leave my self-control in the hands of my wife for the evening and simply try for a good night. As usual, Steph had brought a collection of musical types, one of whom started up some sort of cat-strangling thing, and I knew I would be given ample opportunity to switch my brain off properly.

That lasted right up to the point when Tony shouted for his wife, and then my sister called out to what sounded like every woman she knew, and in the tone of voice I hadn’t heard since I’d reintroduced her to Tony. Shit. I hung back slightly, looking to my wife for the nod, but I caught on very quickly. I mean, the girl may have been French, but she was clearly one of what I was almost thinking of as ‘us’. And as her story was revealed, I felt the same taste in my mouth as the Evans clan gave me, the same slow and steady burn of anger. Siân’s hand was stroking my forearm, but all I saw were ripples, spreading out from the original stone.

Those sermons had spoken of love and friendship, of giving yourself to those who needed it, and I knew that was my weakness. I was trying too hard, sense lagging behind enthusiasm, but it was ripples. So many of the people here had been touched by the death the Vicar had mentioned, including lovely Annie, who had so nearly broken. The savagery given out to Omar and Chris hadn’t just hurt them but also everyone in South Wales whose sexuality might be, or seem to be, in any way unconventional. Debbie and Fahmi, families, Sgt Gould, bloody ripples.

Sar’s face was set, and I while couldn’t see Sam there I could see Dad, off out the door to give Joe a lesson in life that would probably have ended up in terminating it.

Bigotry. Hatred. Fists and feet. There was a quick conference, a women’s issues session, and a group of them whisked the French girl, Sophie, away, as the boys dragged her brother off to the pub.

Siân still held my arm. “No, cariad, leave the men to their space. The women will do their bit, but there are kids and other folk here. Keep the smile going so they don’t pick up on anything odd. Got me? Now, smile and mingle”

They were back in half an hour or so, and it all went well in the end after a few hiccups. What surprised me was, in the end, unsurprising. That sounds like a contradiction, but it isn’t. The details of what my friends and family did, Steve in particular, may have been surprising, but why they did them and when were exactly as I expected. Steve, for example, taking Sophie into a waltz he performed better than some professionals, to a lovely lilting tune played by our resident musicians; nothing in our history would ever have led me to suspect he had such a talent, but the warmth he brought to it was what I knew and loved.

That evening came to an end, and as we headed off to our tents Annie stopped me for a hug, whispering in my ear “I know why you did it, love. So does Diane. Don’t worry and sleep well”

In the end, I did, but it took me a while to get off. Morning was a bloody cold draught in my face, followed thankfully by a warm wife and a warmer cuppa.

"Hint for today, cariad: not to talk about us and kids, aye? Hospital group for lunch. You’re on table duties”

“What about you?”

“Kitchen!”

“Bloody holiday time!”

“Just for the day, aye? Proper party tonight. So get up and out, and I’d put the thermals on before you do”

I grinned at the memories. “Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have been so keen for me to get them off last night!”

“Sod you, Powell! Church hall, aye? Breakfast about to be dished up”

So we had a proper breakfast, and a lot more tea, and the kids came in their chairs and with their sticks, and I understood why Siân had vetoed discussion of our own plans. Keep it upbeat, Lainey, keep it away from worries. A little before the charity meal, Sophie was taken away for a while, and when she returned the girls had obviously given her a bit of a makeover, her confidence still absent despite their work. They didn’t leave her to the jitters, though, and by the time we sent the last of the hospital buses on its way she was entrenched with our friends and family.

That night, watching her trying to outdance my sister, I wondered where those jitters and inhibitions had fled to, for she went as mad as any of them. Except, of course, for Steph and Annie. I didn’t ask my wife for permission when I sent Diane the picture of a sweating woman with a flute, on one leg. In heels. I knew I’d collar Tony in the morning.

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Comments

Sounding out

Podracer's picture

Aye, Elaine, at least give a quick check for depth before you hurl those big feet both in, hm?
At least the day finished with a good party on, and some glowing high spirits. "That flautist" been watching Ian Anderson then? Probably too young to have taught him!

"Reach for the sun."

ripples

yeah, one good deed has led to more, and more, and more ...

DogSig.png

To refresh my memory . . .

I just had to re-read the last three parts of "Cider". I needed to remind myself of Sophie's story. I am fascinated how you manage to achieve separate viewpoint accounts of interacting stories. That requires remarkable control - and revision (or do you manage by recall - even cleverer).
Please keep it going.

Viewpoints

It's bloody hard work, because I have to try and keep the time lines consistent as well as remembering the 'voice' I am using. This part of the story is an attempt to show how Emma-like both sisters are, how what they see as cunning insights and the right ways to do things are often completely wrong. Elaine has just managed to stay away from a complete breakdown, and she still isn't all well.

My Grand-Daughter

joannebarbarella's picture

Is taking flute lessons. I'm going to send her some videos of Ian Anderson so that she understands what you can do with one.