The Happy Family by Jackie Kabler (electric book reader txt) 📕

screaming,’ she laughed. ‘I couldn’t believe it, could I, Mum? I’ve always, always wanted a big sister, and now here you are. It’s mad, isn’t it?’

When we ended the call, blowing silly kisses at each other and giggling like children, I felt elated, and went to bed dreaming of shopping trips, cocktails, and girlie weekends away – sisterly activities I’d always envied in my friends’ lives, never imagining they could one day be possible for me.

As I relate this now to Ruth and Deborah, any residual feelings of unease fade. I need to pull myself together, I think, or I’m going to ruin this for everyone. This should be one of the happiest times in my life. I have to stop thinking about the past, have to stop being so terrified that it’s going to ruin my future.

‘Whoops, look at the time,’ says Ruth suddenly, tapping her watch. ‘The afternoon hordes will be here any minute now. Scoot, you two. Busy, busy.’

Deborah rolls her eyes at me.

‘You’d think she was in charge here, not you,’ she says.

‘I know. What you can do, eh?’ I give a dramatic sigh and we all laugh. I head back to my office feeling lighter, happier again. After work I go home via the hospital where I find Dad sleepy but still stable, and then race home. As I’m parking the car, Brenda’s just getting out of hers and she waves to me across the wall.

‘Looking forward to this evening!’ she says. ‘How are things though? Must be so odd for you … Is it going well?’

I nod.

‘It really is. You’d think it would be odd, and I suppose it is in some ways – we’re still getting to know each other again, you know? But in other ways it just feels … normal. Weird, eh?’

She shrugs.

‘Blood’s thicker than water and all that. That’s brilliant, Beth. See you later then!’

She waves again and heads for her front door, and I lock the car and let myself into the house. I can hear music – is that the Bee Gees? – coming from the kitchen, and I walk in to find Mum twirling Eloise around the island, Finley perched on one of the high stools, laughing.

‘What’s going on here then?’ I say. ‘Party started without me?’

Mum stops dancing, pink-cheeked and breathless, and a beaming Eloise rushes over to give me a hug.

‘We couldn’t wait,’ Mum says with a grin. ‘Friday night and all that!’

Something’s in the oven too, something savoury and fragrant. There’s no sigh of Robin though, and I wonder if Mum’s sent her home early.

‘Grandma’s giving me dancing lessons!’ Eloise is looking up at me, arms still wrapped around my waist. She’s still in her school uniform, her tie askew.

‘Lovely!’ I reply and kiss the top of her head. ‘Rather her than me – two left feet here.’

Mum laughs.

‘I’ve always loved dancing,’ she says. ‘And I’m glad you’re home, love. I let Robin go, hope that’s OK? She didn’t seem to have much to do anyway. She was just hanging around, and with me here …’

There’s a disapproving tone to her voice and she pauses for a second or two then says, ‘Anyway, I know we’re getting a takeaway later but I popped out earlier and bought some ready-made canapés – they’re in the oven. I thought the kids might be hungry. It’s just little prawn blinis and some mini chicken kebabs. We can have them as an appetiser when your friends arrive?’

‘Yum. Great. Thanks so much.’

I release Eloise and lean over to give Finley a kiss, and then Mum. This is great, I think. It’s so nice to come home to a kitchen filled with noise and music and dancing, to see the children having so much fun with their grandmother, to feel … looked after, I suppose. Looked after, by my mother. Food in the oven, wine glasses laid out on the countertop, a bottle in an ice bucket.

‘Oh, and I got you something, a little present. Thought you might like to wear it this evening.’

Mum’s waving a plastic carrier bag at me; it’s from one of those chi-chi little boutiques in The Suffolks – not Brenda’s but another even more expensive one.

‘Mum! That’s so naughty. You shouldn’t have! You don’t need to be spending your money on me, honestly.’

She shrugs and hands me the bag.

‘Just trying to make up for all those birthdays and Christmases I missed over the years,’ she says. ‘And I have a very long way to go yet, so humour me. It’s nothing much, just a little top.’

‘Well, that’s incredibly kind of you, thank you.’

I take the bag, and peek inside. I see leopard print and my heart sinks a little. I don’t really do animal print. It’s not my style – too ‘out there’, but I don’t want to offend her, so I gasp appreciatively.

‘Wow, that looks gorgeous,’ I say. ‘I’ll run up and change. Brenda and Barbara will be here in a few minutes.’

‘I’d better get those canapés out then,’ she says. ‘Eloise, darling, why don’t you go and change out of your school uniform? And Finley, can you put your shoes away? Don’t want Mummy’s friends to trip over them, do we?’

The children leap to do her bidding and, wondering why they’re never so well-behaved for me, I head upstairs to get out of my work clothes. I had wondered about asking Robin to stay this evening, to join us for drinks and dinner if she was free, but now I’m glad I didn’t. I’m still getting the sense that Mum doesn’t seem too keen on her, for whatever reason. When I take my gift out of the bag it’s even worse than I feared – a garish, leopard print jersey top with a flouncy, ruffled neckline. I pull it on and even though it’s labelled a size medium it’s far too small, flattening my boobs and clinging to my tummy. I stare at myself in the mirror and poke at the rolls of