Page 23 of The Last Kiss

As much as I know this, I still stop at the door and glance back, massive Frenchman sprawled across a bed tangled in white sheets. “Thank you,” I whisper, and then I steal away into London’s pre-dawn grey.

6

Sisters

“Where the actual fuck have you been?” Olivia yanks me over the threshold into her home encased in layers of cream. Walking into Olivia’s house is rather like being one of those tiny figurines on top of a wedding cake.

I’m trembling, my legs barely holding me up, while her hands grip my shoulders in an almost shake. I know that shake. It’s the, ‘where have you been, don’t you know I’m going out of my mind with worry’ shake.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” My lips tremble, my tongue dry and stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“What are you wearing? Why are you in work clothes on a Saturday—” she’s cut off from more questions by an ear-splitting screech and a wild form cantering through the hallway where we are standing.

“Aunty JuJu!” The screeching banshee draws to a skidded stop and tilts its head to the side, peering at me through wild, unbrushed, untameable knots of hair. “Naughty JuJu. Mummy said bad words.” A finger wags sternly at me, side to side. “Soap words. Never say soapsie words.”

Oh, the wash your mouth out with soap threat. Must have been really bad words. I cock an eyebrow at Liv, the younger of the two Brown sisters.

“What?” She lifts her chin in the air and glares daggers at me. “I was bloody worried. I called your phone at least a hundred times, and your office.”

“Oh, Liv, what did you call them for?” I sigh, making her cross her arms like a warrior preparing for battle.

“Because you went for a check-up and then never called me.”

“You aren’t Mum, Liv, I don’t have to check in.”

“Is that so?”

Okay, this is not the way it’s meant to go. I’ve got far worse things to say.

Bending down, I grab the thigh-high Gremlin and push back its hair, finding my niece buried underneath. “Hey, beautiful girl. Can we play dress up today?”

Paige stares at me through brown eyes I know are the exact colour of mine and a little pang pings my chest. “No hairbrush.” She folds her arms, meaning business.

I pull a face. “Well, if we don’t have the hairbrush then we can’t have the ice cream, can we?”

“Ice cream, for breakfast?” Paige starts bouncing and I can only think she’s already got a secret stash of sugar stored away like a squirrel. I glance over her head at Liv whose face has drained to grey, dishwater grey.

“Sure,” I return my focus to Paige. “Personally, I love ice cream for brekkie, it’s the breakfast of champions.”

“Champions!” She fists her hand in the air and zooms off like a superhero dressed only in vest and knickers.

“Hairbrush!” I call after her. “And maybe some of that magic spray I bought you.”

Straightening, I level up with Liv. “Seriously, sis, you’ve got to brush it when she gets out of the bath.”

Liv holds her wrist out for me to see. A round, bite-shaped bruise sits on the pale flesh.

“Jesus, she’s wild.”

Liv meets my eye. “Cut the bullshit, Julia.”

This isn’t a conversation to have over breakfast, even an ice cream one. But it’s a conversation that can’t be avoided.

“What did Dr Francis say? I knew I should have come with you.”

I launch myself forward, wrapping my arms around her, face pressed into the strands of her ash-blonde hair. “You don’t have to be Mum to everyone, Liv.”

Olivia pulls back and tucks my hair behind my ear, the most motherly thing anyone has done to me in probably years. “I know. But you’re my sister. I should be there with you.”