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.