Secret Smile

CHAPTER 11

I went out anyway. I couldn't stay in the flat. My flat, though it didn't feel like mine any more, with Brendan's shaving cream in the bathroom, Kerry's television on my bookshelf, their music playing, their soya milk in the fridge, their night things slung over the back of the sofa.

I strode over the Heath, feet scuffling up leaves, breath curling in the clear air. A beautiful day and I'd met someone I liked and I should be happy – and all I could feel was this sensation eating into my stomach lining like acid. I couldn't stop myself thinking of Brendan sitting on my lavatory, lying in my bath, eating food a few feet away from me, nuzzling up to Kerry, to my mother… His hair in my brush, his hand on my shoulder, his breath on my cheek. I shuddered, and walked even faster, trying to burn off the anger and disgust.

I must be polite and friendly, for Kerry's sake, I told myself, kicking a little heap of conkers out of my path and watching them roll bumpily away from me. Just a few days, a week or two, then they'd be in their own house, busy decorating it and planning their wedding, and I'd hardly have to see them. Even as I persuaded myself this was true, I heard his voice telling me about my beautiful mouth, remembered his damp lips on my cheek, and felt instantly nauseous.

My mobile rang in my pocket.

'Hello.'

'Miranda, it's me.'

'Nick. I was going to call you.'

'I'm round at Greg's just now. I'm looking forward to this evening, though it's a bit daunting meeting your whole family at once. Shall I bring anything?'

'You don't have to come, you know.'

'Don't you want me to?'

'It's not that. It'll just be a bit oppressive, you know, all the family, and Kerry and Brendan have just moved in with half of their belongings and it's chaos.'

'Brendan sounded very friendly.'

'Oh, did he?'

'No, really. I think he was making a big effort with me.'

'It might be better to meet my family another time…'

'What are you so worried about?'

'Nothing.'

'It's Brendan, isn't it? You don't want me to meet him.'

'I was just thinking about you.'

'I said I'd come and I'm coming.' There was a pause, and he added stiffly, 'If that's all right with you, that is.'

'Why wouldn't it be?'

'Good. Seven o'clock, then?'

'All right.'

Troy and I went shopping for the supper. Mum had said she would bring the pudding, so we only needed to buy stuff for the main course. Troy couldn't make up his mind what to cook, so we drifted up and down the aisles. He picked up bags of lentils and beans and weird kinds of exotic rice and stared at them and put them back. His brain seemed flooded by all the choice, the colours and the bright lights.

'Pasta,' I said. 'Let's cook something with pasta.'

'Maybe.'

'Or something with rice.'

'Rice?'

'Rice, yes. Good idea?'

'I don't know.'

'Or we could cheat. Let's buy a ready-made meal and pretend we've cooked it ourselves.'

I randomly picked out a pack of cod-in-cheese-sauce from the freezer and held it up. 'A couple of these,' I said. 'We could put them into a bowl and nobody would know. Anyway, who cares if they do know? It's not a big deal.'

'That looks disgusting.'

I tossed it back into the freezer. 'You decide, then.'

He gazed around him, at all the shelves, at the overloaded trolleys. 'I don't feel like cooking, really. I'm not in the mood.'

'We've been here for half a fucking hour,' I said, slewing the trolley viciously round on its wheels. 'All I've put in the trolley are some coffee beans and a bunch of bananas. I'm just going to buy something, right? Anything.'

'Right,' he said, staring at me so helplessly that all the heat went out of me.

I put my hands on his thin shoulders and squeezed them. 'It's OK, Troy,' I said. 'Everything's fine. Leave it to me.'

Kerry and Brendan had stayed behind to tidy up the flat, but when Troy and I returned in the late afternoon, the light fading and the rind of a moon already on the horizon, the mess had hardly been touched. For a blessed moment I thought they'd gone out, but then I heard the rumbling pipes and voices coming from behind the closed bathroom door. They were having a bath together. A very long bath, which continued as I helped Troy crush the garlic, chop the vegetables. We worked in comfortable silence. Every so often the pipes would rumble again as more water was used, or there would be a squeal of pleasure. I glanced across at Troy. It sounded to me as if sex were going on, sporadically and splashily, in there. I put on some music, quite loud, and returned to the sink. My shoulders ached and I felt sweaty and lumpy. I wanted to have a bath too before Nick arrived, wash my hair and put on different clothes and some make-up. I looked at my watch and considered banging on the door, but restrained myself.

When they finally emerged, wrapped in towels, they were pink and damp. Fragrant steam billowed out behind them.

'I'm just going to take a quick bath myself,' I said, laying down the sharp knife, and leaving them rummaging in their bags for clothes.

There was no hot water. An unreasonable anger rose up in me. I washed my face in the sink and cleaned my teeth, but just as I was about to go into my bedroom to find something to wear the doorbell rang. Shit. Brendan flung the door open on Nick and my parents, smiling awkwardly at each other on the threshold.

'Nick,' said Brendan holding out his hand. 'Come in. We've all been wanting to meet you.'

'Hi,' I said to him. I thought about going over and giving him a kiss, but instead hovered by the cooker. 'You've probably worked it out already, but the chef here is my brother, Troy.' Troy turned from the hob and lifted a wooden spoon in the air. 'And my parents, Marcia and Derek. My sister, Kerry.' Who, I now saw, was looking gorgeous, in a red velvet dress with a choker that made her neck long and slender. 'And Brendan.'

Everyone said hello and shook hands, I pulled the duvet and the coats off the sofa, but nobody sat down. I cleared my throat.

'Good day?' I said brightly to Nick across the room.

'Fine,' he said.

'It was lovely weather, wasn't it?'

We stared at each other, appalled.

'Drinks,' cried Brendan. He took the two bottles of wine I'd bought out of the fridge and opened them both, with a flourish. 'Get those crisps, Kerry. It's always nerve-racking, meeting the parents, isn't it?' he said. 'When I first met Marcia and Derek I was petrified.' He gave a happy shout of laughter.

'Were you?' asked my father. 'We certainly didn't notice that.' He turned to Nick. 'Miranda tells me you're in advertising.'

'Yes,' said Nick. 'And you're in packaging.'

'Yes.'

'I once thought about advertising as a career,' said Brendan into the pause. 'But then I worried about having to advertise things I didn't agree with.'

'Well…' began Nick.

'Like one of those multinational petrol companies, for instance,' said Brendan. Nick gave me a sharp glance, obviously suspecting I'd told Brendan about his commission. 'That would be impossible. Mmm? I want to work with people. That's where my real interests lie. Here's your wine.'

'It's a bit like being a lawyer,' said Nick. 'You can't just pick the things that you agree with.'

'You mean that even bad companies deserve good advertising,' said Brendan, taking a sip, no, a large gulp, of wine. 'That's an interesting thought.'

Sitting round the small table, everyone pressed against their neighbour, forks scraping against unmatching plates, the third bottle of wine opened and poured. Nick ate slowly and was quiet, but Brendan wolfed down his helping and asked for more.

'You'll have to teach me how to cook it,' he said to Troy. He turned companionably to Nick, 'Has Mirrie ever cooked for you?'

'Once.'

Brendan grinned. 'Let me guess. Chicken breasts with garlic and olive oil?'

'In fact, I mentioned it to Kerry,' I said.

'Right,' said Nick. He smiled at me affectionately.

And I'd said, when I produced it…

'And when she put it down in front of you, she went like this.' Brendan's voice climbed higher. He raised his eyebrows. 'Da-daaa! Make the most of this, mister.' Even I could hear that it sounded a bit like me.

He laughed. I looked across the table at Nick. He was smiling, a bit. And Kerry. Everybody. I stared down at my plate. I thought that Brendan was being repulsive, but I wondered if – for Nick – Brendan's repulsiveness would rub off on me as well. In which case, should I hope that Nick would be charmed by him?

'You OK?' It was Kerry, next to me, laying her cool hand over my sweaty one. Her smell of soap and perfume in my nostrils.

'Fine.' I took my hand away.

'Mirrie?'

Suddenly they were all looking at me.

'I'm fine,' I repeated.

'We're family,' said Brendan gently. 'Family. It's all right.'

I turned on him. 'I finished it with you,' I heard myself say. 'I was the one who finished it.'

The room was silent, except for the sound of Nick's fork, scraping on the plate.

'What was that about?'

We were walking along the street towards the underground, having made a hurried exit.

'I don't know. It doesn't matter. It was just me being stupid.'

'Is that all?'

'I just felt – oh, I don't know. Stifled.'

'Nobody was being nasty to you. You just flared up.'

'You don't understand, Nick. It's all the things that lie between the lines. Things that aren't spoken, but I know are there.'

'That sounds a bit paranoid to me.'

'Yeah? Well, that's because you're not in my family.'

'Brendan was trying to be kind.'

'Right. That's what he wanted you to think. He wants to get you on his side.'

'Christ, Miranda, you should listen to yourself.'

'Oh, forget it.' I rubbed my eyes. 'I made a fool of myself, I know that. I feel stupid, ridiculous. I don't really want to have a post-mortem over it.'

'Very well.' His voice was cool.

We reached the underground station. A warm and dirty wind blew up from below. I felt I could hardly breathe. I took Nick's hand.

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Can we let it go now?'

'I can,' he said. 'Can you?'