The One We Fell in Love With

  ‘Where did it go?’ he asks curiously as he opens the drawer for the takeaway menus and passes over a stack.

  ‘I was pretty hungover earlier.’

  ‘Were you? On a Tuesday?’ He looks interested. ‘What did you get up to last night?’

  ‘Oh!’ I remember what I was going to tell him. ‘Toby and I went to see a band at this place called Elvis & Joe’s in the Northern Quarter. Do you know it?’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ he calls after me as I march back into the hall to retrieve my bag.

  I return with the flier. ‘Look who has a gig there in a couple of weeks.’

  I watch his face as I pass it over. Sure enough, his right eyebrow twitches.

  Despite what I said on the doorstep that day we found out about Phoebe, I no longer believe that Angus and Eliza were having an affair. Eliza is nowhere near a good enough actress to pull off her reaction to my accusation, so whatever history they had I’m certain is behind them. I’ll put Angus’s eyebrow Tourette’s down to that. ‘The man there asked me to give this to her,’ I continue. ‘I’m seeing Mum in the next couple of days – she can pass it on.’

  ‘Wow,’ he says quietly, studying Eliza’s image.

  I swallow and fold my arms in front of my chest. ‘I was wondering if maybe, I don’t know, maybe we should go.’

  He glances up at me quickly.

  ‘Don’t you miss her?’ I ask.

  ‘Do you?’ he replies carefully.

  I nod slightly.

  The truth is, I’ve been missing Eliza for a while, now, ever since I read Phoebe’s comments about us in her diary. I’ve always thought that Eliza considered me dull and boring. I thought that our personalities clashed and there was nothing we could do about it. I didn’t really consider that I had been incredibly mean to her, growing up, and it had come from a place of jealousy and insecurity. It’s hardly surprising that her resentment towards me built in return, and no doubt intensified in the years that I grew so close to Phoebe and Angus. If I put myself in her shoes, I know I would have found that unbearable.

  I don’t go into all of this with Angus, though. I’m still trying to come to terms with it myself.

  ‘I do, a little,’ I tell him. ‘After the gig, Toby and I were going to get something to eat and we saw a restaurant called Roxy’s. She was inside waitressing.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ he says.

  ‘I’d forgotten that she’d left Mario’s.’

  Angus puts down the flier suddenly and gives me a beseeching look. ‘Why don’t you call her? Don’t just turn up at her gig. You’ve got a lot to talk about.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I just thought maybe it would be a small step in the right direction.’ I’ve never been very supportive of Eliza and her music. I want to make up for it. ‘Don’t worry if you don’t want to go.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ he says. ‘But God, Rose, this must be killing your mother. To lose one daughter and then have the others—’

  ‘You don’t have to spell it out, Angus, I know,’ I say coldly. ‘It’s not like I want to be estranged from Eliza. Losing Phoebe was hard enough...’ Tears spring up in my eyes and he pulls me towards him with a heavy sigh.

  I bury my face against his collarbone, breathing in his familiar aftershave and trying to stave off my tears. Angus has always given the best hugs.

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ he murmurs, rocking me comfortingly.

  I pull away from him to dry my eyes and he lets me go. ‘You’re tired,’ he says gently. ‘You’re probably experiencing an alcohol low. Pizza will help.’

  I smile through my tears. ‘Is that what you feel like?’

  ‘You choose. Honestly. I’ll eat anything.’

  ‘Thai?’ I ask timidly.

  ‘Done.’

  He takes the menu from me and goes over to the phone.

  I forgot that the Thai restaurant doesn’t deliver, so a short while later he heads down the street to pick it up. After ten minutes, there’s a knock at the door. I’m assuming Angus has forgotten his keys so I don’t think twice about opening it up. I start at the sight of Toby standing on the landing outside the apartment, his skateboard in one hand.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask with surprise, glancing down the stairs. ‘How did you get into the main lobby?’

  ‘Some girl was coming out. She let me in.’

  ‘They’re not supposed to do that,’ I say primly.

  He gives me a long, poignant stare. ‘Can I come in?’ he prompts.

  ‘Um, sure.’ I step back to let him pass.

  ‘I came to say sorry.’ He looks shamefaced. ‘I was out of order.’

  ‘Forget about it,’ I reply, leaning my back against the hall wall.

  ‘I woke up this morning and decided to quit smoking,’ he explains. ‘I’ve been like a bear with a sore head all day.’

  This news perks me up. ‘Have you really quit?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well done!’ I enthuse.

  He offers me a small smile, then reaches down and circles my wrist with his hand.

  ‘I really am sorry,’ he says quietly, stroking his middle finger across the top edge of my palm. My heart jumps as I stare back at him. And then the door opens and Angus bustles in.

  ‘That place was chockers,’ he starts, stopping in his tracks when he spies Toby, who drops my wrist like a hot potato.

  ‘This is Toby,’ I quickly pull myself together and make the introductions.

  ‘Er, hi,’ Angus says, giving him the once over.

  Toby grabs the door before it closes. ‘I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?’

  I nod and he glances at Angus.

  ‘See you later,’ he says, then he turns and jogs down the steps.

  Angus raises his eyebrows at me as he closes the door. ‘So that was Toby, hey?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I wander back into the living room, feeling bizarrely jittery.

  ‘He’s not how I imagined him to look,’ he comments, heading into the kitchen to unpack the takeaway.

  ‘No?’ I ask casually. I make it to the window in time to see Toby skating away along the pavement.

  ‘I thought he’d be more of a skinny teenager,’ Angus says.

  I snort as a memory comes back to me. ‘Last night I told him he was Eliza’s type. She’s too old for him, obviously, but she would have gone for him if she were a few years younger.’

  Angus wrinkles up his nose. ‘Really?’ He sounds dubious.

  ‘Yeah, you know how she was always into skater/indie boys.’

  ‘I was one of them once,’ he muses nostalgically. ‘Until I had to get a proper job and tidy myself up.’ He glances down at his attire – dark-grey cords and a light-blue designer T-shirt.

  ‘You’re still an indie boy, Gus,’ I say fondly.

  And you’re still Eliza’s type. But I don’t say that part out loud.

  Chapter 29

  Eliza

  ‘I want to tell her about us,’ Angus says at the other end of the line.

  It’s Wednesday lunchtime and we’re talking about Rose. He’s just told me that she went into Elvis & Joe’s on Monday night to watch a flipping gig! Since when does she go to gigs? What’s more, Joe thought she was me and gave her a flier to pass on. Angus says he struggled to leave it sitting on the countertop instead of pocketing it to give to me himself.

  ‘No,’ I reply firmly, cradling the phone to my ear.

  ‘Yes,’ he insists. ‘She’s going to be really hurt when she finds out and she doesn’t deserve that.’

  ‘She’ll just interfere! She’ll think it’s too soon. She won’t understand.’

  ‘Then we need to make her understand. I don’t want to lie to her any more. It’ll be worse in the long run. The longer this goes on behind her back, the harder it will be for her to forgive us.’ He pauses. ‘She misses you,’ he says. ‘She wants to see you.’

  My heart clenches. ‘Let’s talk about it later,’ I murmur.

  After
we end our conversation, I sit there for a moment, deep in thought, and a memory hits me out of the blue of Rose and me pretending to be each other’s mirror images. We were at school and all of our classmates were laughing their heads off. I don’t recall where Phoebe was – for once it was just Rose and me.

  This recollection leads me straight into another one of us as teenagers shopping for dresses for an end-of-year disco. Phoebe and I had found outfits quickly and she’d gone off to meet up with Josie, but Rose was struggling. She was recovering from a bout of the flu and was feeling a bit weak, so I started to try on dresses for her, even twirling my hair up into a bun so I looked more like her. She laughed so much. But we found her a dress.

  It’s strange. When we were younger and Phoebe wasn’t around, the gap between Rose and me would often close. But now that she’s gone for good, it’s wider than it’s ever been.

  Jolting out of my reverie, I check the time. I was supposed to go and see Mum this afternoon.

  I grab my staff uniform. I’ll have to head straight to work afterwards.

  ‘You look well,’ Mum says, once we’re seated at her small kitchen table.

  ‘So do you.’ And she does. She’s wearing smart trousers and a cream blouse and her dark blonde hair has been blow-dried into a tidy bob. She’s even wearing a little make-up – something she hasn’t bothered with for ages.

  ‘New man on the scene?’ she asks shrewdly.

  ‘Nah.’ I brush her off. ‘You?’ I raise one eyebrow.

  ‘Well, Bert is pretty something when he’s got his teeth in,’ she jokes of her new next-door neighbour.

  I smirk at her.

  The cul de sac where Mum lives is only a short walk from the centre of Sale. Many of its current residents moved there to downsize and it has a retirement village feel about it with a strong, inclusive community. When I arrived, Mum was standing on the pavement, chatting away merrily to two of her new friends. As soon as they saw me, they wanted to know ‘which one I was’.

  I have to concede that maybe Rose was right all along. Mum’s the perkiest I’ve seen her in a long time.

  ‘Have you spoken to Rose recently?’ she asks.

  Gosh, that’s even earlier than last time when she waited a good ten minutes before broaching the subject.

  ‘No, Mum,’ I reply wearily.

  ‘I almost asked you both to come together. Make “sorting things out” part of the conditions.’

  ‘Part of the conditions of what?’ I ask with confusion.

  She leans forward, her eyes bright. ‘I plan to gift you and Rose some money from the house sale.’

  I’m pretty taken aback.

  ‘You shouldn’t have to wait until I’m gone before you see your inheritance.’ I flinch at this, but she continues, unabashed. ‘I’d rather help while I’m still around to see you enjoy it. I haven’t finished.’ She holds up her palm to stave off my questions and then reaches across the table to take my hand, her expression one of motherly concern. I feel instinctively twitchy at the lecture I feel is coming.

  ‘Darling, I’m worried about you. I’ve always been worried about you, what you’re doing, where you’re going, where you live,’ she says with a barbed look. She was horrified the first time she saw the tower block and hasn’t been back since. ‘And who you’re seeing,’ she adds.

  ‘I told you, I’m not seeing anyone.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s a good thing. I haven’t exactly been enamoured with your choice of suitor over the years.’

  I frown at her. ‘Mum, you sound like something out of the Dark Ages.’

  ‘I’m just being honest. You’re twenty-eight, love.’

  ‘You don’t have to point any of this out.’ I can feel myself getting worked up. ‘I know I’ve been wandering through life a bit aimlessly, but things seem to finally be looking up.’

  I tell her about my second gig at Elvis & Joe’s.

  ‘Does singing still make you happy?’ she asks gently.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply with a small smile. ‘I know I haven’t hit the big time or anything, but I’m not ready to chuck in the towel, yet.’

  Mum nods sympathetically, but doesn’t let up. ‘What about that horrid place you live?’

  ‘It’s handy for getting into work,’ I say defensively. ‘And anyway, it’s all I can afford.’

  ‘Not any more,’ she says meaningfully. ‘I don’t like to think of you arriving home so late at night after your shifts. The thought of anything happening to you...’ Her eyes well up with tears.

  ‘Please don’t cry,’ I beg.

  ‘You used to love catching the Metro into town from here,’ she reminds me. ‘If you moved nearby, I’d be able to see you more. I miss you, love. I like living here, but I miss you. We used to have such fun together. You made me feel younger.’ She reaches for a tissue.

  I reach for one, too. ‘Rose used to think that I wore you out,’ I state as we both sniff.

  ‘Oh, you did. And you still do.’ She casts her eyes to the ceiling. ‘You always will, I suspect.’

  I smile at her through my tears.

  ‘You and Rose need to sort out your differences,’ she implores. ‘This can’t go on any longer. You need to sort it out for all our sakes.’ She pauses and takes a deep breath, and I sense that she’s got something else to say – something she doesn’t think I’m going to like. ‘Perhaps I should have told you sooner, but Rose lives here in Sale.’

  I nod.

  ‘With Angus,’ she adds on a release of breath.

  My shoulders sag with relief. Is that all?

  ‘I know,’ I reply.

  ‘Did she tell you?’ she asks with astonishment.

  ‘No, I heard about it on the grapevine.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’

  ‘No, Mum, it’s fine.’

  ‘I was worried you’d think she’s stepping into Phoebe’s shoes,’ she says quietly.

  As if I could accuse Rose of that, I think uncomfortably.

  ‘But it was Judy’s suggestion,’ she continues. ‘I was surprised, to be honest. I thought Angus might find it too hard...’

  Her eyes well up again, but this time the tissue can’t stop them from spilling over. I take her trembling hand and avert my gaze. It’s the one thing I really, really struggle with, seeing Mum cry. I watched her go through hell after Dad’s death. It almost did me in witnessing the worst of her grief after Phoebe died. I was more relieved than I let on when Rose left London and moved back home to Sale permanently. Finally I had someone else to share the burden. I’m not proud of it, but our blazing rows actually gave me an excuse to make a break for it.

  ‘I don’t think Angus looks at us and sees Feebs,’ I find myself saying. ‘He’s always treated us as three very different people, just like you and Dad.’

  I wish I could say the same for myself.

  When I look at Rose, I do see Phoebe. When I look into the mirror, I see her, too. And it hurts, like shards of glass being stabbed through my heart.

  So I try not to look in the mirror much.

  And I also try not to look at Rose.

  Chapter 30

  Rose

  ‘Are you still going to see your mum?’ Toby asks towards the end of the day as he surveys the loaves of bread we have left. There are only three: a walnut and cranberry, a rye and caraway and a plain rustic white.

  ‘That’s the plan,’ I reply, rubbing the back of my neck with my fingers.

  Things were a bit weird between us when I came in this morning. After his visit to my home last night, I found it a little hard to look him in the eye. But over the course of the day we’ve settled into our usual banter.

  ‘I’m knackered, though,’ I add. ‘I still haven’t caught up on my sleep.’

  ‘Come and sit down,’ he urges, going over to the seated area and pulling out a chair.

  I mosey over to him.

  ‘Why are you so tired?’ he asks, nodding pointedly at the chair he’s holding. I sit down, facing away fro
m him. ‘Were you up late last night with Angus?’

  ‘What did you say his name like that for?’ I jolt as his hands start to massage my shoulders. Wow, that feels amazing.

  ‘He’s the guy you and your sisters fell for, right?’

  I freeze. ‘Wait, how—?’ I whip my head around to look up at him before remembering that I told him this on Monday night. ‘Oh, that’s right,’ I say sardonically as I turn back around. ‘Yeah, but we were just love-struck teenagers.’ He doesn’t comment and I begin to relax under his touch. ‘Mmm. You are really good at this,’ I say dreamily.

  ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘Who by?’ My question comes out too quickly and I can hear the amusement in his voice as he replies.

  ‘Just my mum.’

  About half a minute passes while I try very hard to contain my curiosity, but I can’t help myself. ‘Have you had many girlfriends?’

  ‘A few,’ he says, working his thumbs in deeper.

  ‘I could fall asleep here,’ I murmur.

  ‘I’ll carry you to your mum’s,’ he jokes. ‘You can take what’s left of the bread, by the way. Your mum can share it with her friends.’

  ‘Are you sure? Won’t your parents want some?’

  ‘No, Mum’s supposed to cut down on carbs. We’re in the wrong business,’ he says drily.

  ‘How is she?’ I ask.

  ‘She’s okay. A health visitor is supposed to be dropping in this week. She won’t leave the house to go to the weight loss clinic.’

  ‘Is she agoraphobic? I mean, has she been diagnosed?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Did her symptoms start with panic attacks?’ I ask.

  ‘Maybe. I think she used to have them sometimes.’

  ‘Do you know why? Was there something that happened, some reason that they started?’

  ‘She was pretty cut up when my nan died. That was when I really started to notice her withdrawing from other people. But I think her first panic attack came after some wankers threw a brick through the bakery window.’

  ‘That’s awful!’ I turn around to look at him. ‘But there are things she can do that can help. I’ll get some leaflets for her. There are self-help treatments she can do at home, and medication if nothing else helps, but the first step is just understanding what the condition is. Of course, the health visitors might already be advising her,’ I say as I turn around again.