Secret Smile

CHAPTER 8

'Are you sure you're all right to do this? Miranda?'

'What? Yes, quite sure. It'll be fun.'

My mind was elsewhere entirely. In bed with Nick the night before, all night. Sleeping at last, then waking in the hours before dawn, dazed with tiredness, and feeling for each other in the darkness. And in the morning he was still there, a stranger's face on the pillow. Miraculous. I blinked and smiled at Kerry. My lips were sore, my body tingled.

'There are four of them I've arranged to see,' she was saying, 'and I've worked out how to do it most efficiently. It'll only take an hour or so. Maybe less. You can't tell from the estate agents' details, can you?'

'I can take you out for lunch after, if you like.'

'That would be lovely. I said I'd meet Brendan. We can just call him and he'll join us wherever we decide to go. He wanted to come this morning, except he'd promised Dad to help him with moving all their furniture before the workmen arrive tomorrow morning and tear the house to bits. He couldn't do it this afternoon because we've got this man coming to look at my flat for the second time.'

'Let's see what time we're through with this,' I said, backpedalling. 'Maybe I'll just have to dash off anyway, come to think of it. I've got a loft extension waiting.'

'It's Sunday,' she protested. 'You work too hard.' Happiness had made her generous. She wanted everyone else to be happy too. 'You look tired.'

'Do I?' I reached up and touched my face gently, the way Nick had done. 'I'm fine, Kerry. Just a bit of a late night, that's all.'

We'd gone to see a film. It wasn't much good, but that didn't matter. We'd leaned into each other, his hand on my thigh, my head pressed against his shoulder. Every so often we'd turned our faces to each other and kissed, just lightly: a promise. He'd bought a tub of salty popcorn, but neither of us ate much of it. We'd both known it was tonight, and the film was just about waiting in the dark, emptying our minds of the other things. For me that meant trying to forget what Brendan had said to me the evening before. The way he'd leaned forwards and whispered it. Smiling and saying that thing. I mustn't think of it; I had to get it out of my mind, where it was buzzing like a fat, unclean fly. So I gazed at the images flickering across the screen, glanced at Nick. Every so often closed my eyes.

When we wandered into the foyer, it was dark outside. Nick lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. 'Where now?'

'My flat's nearer than yours,' I said.

We got a bus there and sat on the top, right at the front. I pressed my forehead against the window and felt the vibrations and looked at the people on the streets beneath me, walking with their heads bent against the gusts of wind. I felt nervous. Soon, I would be making love with this man who was sitting beside me now, not speaking, whom I'd only met twice. What then? Sometimes sex can feel casual and easy, but sometimes it seems momentous and full of problems; almost impossible. Two people with all their hopes and expectations and neuroses and desires, like two worlds colliding.

'This is our stop,' I said.

He stood up and then pulled me to my feet. His hand was warm and firm. He smiled down at me. 'All right?'

It was all right. Just fine. And then, after we'd made ourselves a sandwich out of one of those half-baked baguettes which I had in my cupboard, with goat's cheese and tomatoes, and drunk a glass of wine each, we went back into the bedroom and this time it was better than all right. It was lovely. Just thinking about it now, in Kerry's car, made me feel liquid with desire. Then we had a bath together, legs tangled up in the small tub, my foot pressed against the inside of his thigh, grinning like idiots at each other.

'What are you grinning at?'

'Mmm? Oh, nothing.'

'Here. This is the first one.' Kerry pulled up and squinted at the sheet of paper dubiously. 'It says it's a two-bedroom maisonette, retaining many period features.'

'Does it say it's next to a pub?'

'No, it doesn't.'

'Let's go and see, anyway.'

It's dangerous buying houses. You know before you set foot inside whether you like them. It's almost like a relationship, when they say it's the first few seconds that count, that instant, pre-rational impression. You have to fall in love with the house you buy. Everything else – whether the roof's sound, the plumbing good, the rooms numerous enough – is almost irrelevant at the start. You can knock down walls and install a damp-proof course, but you can't make yourself fall in love. I was here as the expert; as the voice of caution.

Kerry knocked and the door flew open as if the woman had been standing with her eye pressed to the spyhole, looking for our approach.

'Hello, come in, mind the step, shall I show you round or do you want to do it yourself, except there are a few details that you might miss, here, come in here first, this is the living room, sorry about the mess…' She was large and breathless and spoke in a headlong rush, words spilling over each other. She careered us from room to tidied room, over frantically patterned carpets. The walls were covered with plates they'd collected, from Venice, Amsterdam, Scarborough, Cardiff, Stockholm, and for some reason the sight of them made me feel sorry for her. She pulled open doors with a flourish, showed us the airing cupboard and the new boiler, the second toilet that was crammed into a space that had been carved out of the kitchen, the dimmer switches in the tiny master bedroom, and the spare bedroom that looked more like a broom cupboard and had clearly been built by cowboys. I pushed the wall surreptitiously and saw it shake. Kerry made polite murmurs and looked around her with bright eyes that transformed everything into her beatific future. She was probably already putting a cot in the spare bedroom.

'Does the pub bother you?' I asked the woman.

'The pub?' She acted surprised, wrinkled her brow. 'Oh, that. No. You hardly hear it. Maybe on a Saturday night…'

As if on cue, the first burst of music thumped through the wall, the bass notes shaking in the air. She flushed, but then carried on talking as if she hadn't heard anything. I glanced at my watch: it was eleven-thirty on a Sunday morning. We did the rest of the tour anyway, making vaguely enthusiastic remarks about the view from the bathroom window, the wedge-shaped garden. The more you don't like a place, the more you have to pretend you do. But I don't think the woman was fooled.

'What do you think?' asked Kerry as we left. 'If we

'Definitely not. Not for half the price.'

'It's falling down,' I said as we left the second house.

'But…'

'That's why it's so cheap. That's why the sale fell through. You might be able to afford to buy it, but you'd have to spend the same again. I'm not even sure you could get it insured.'

'It's such a nice house.'

'It's a wreck. She's got someone in to plaster and paint over the worst bits in the hall, but there's damp everywhere, probably subsidence. You'd need a structural engineer to check it over. The window frames are rotting. The wiring is primeval. Do you have the capital to do it up?'

'Maybe when Bren, you know, finds a job…'

'Is he looking?'

'Oh, yes. And thinking hard about what he really thinks is right for him. He says it's a chance to begin again and make the life he really wants for himself.' She blushed. 'For us,' she added.

'In the meantime, he's got nowhere to sell, and it's just what you get from your flat and your income.'

'Mum and Dad have been very generous.'

'Have they?' I tried to suppress the stab of resentment I felt when I heard that. 'No more than you deserve. But don't blow it on that house.'

You have to be able to imagine what isn't there, and imagine away what is, see underneath things, impose your own taste on top of them. The third place was filthy and smelled of cigarettes and years of unopened windows. The walls were brown and stained, or had faded flowery wallpaper covering them. The carpets were an unlovely purple. The living room needed to be knocked into the kitchen-dining room, to create a huge open space downstairs. The plasterboard needed to be ripped away from the fireplace.

'You could have a huge sunroof over the kitchen, and maybe open it out even further into a conservatory. It'd be fantastic'

'Do you think so?'

'With that garden, definitely. It must be about sixty feet long.'

'It's big for London, isn't it? But it's just nettles.'

'Think what it could be like!'

'Did you see the state of the kitchen?'

'He lived there for years without doing anything at all to it. But that's the joy of it – it's ready for you to do whatever you want.'

'It's more spacious than I thought we could afford. And all the cornices and mouldings and proper sash windows

'It looks pretty solid to me, as far as I could tell. I'll help you with it.'

'Really? You'd do that?'

'Of course.'

'And you think it's the right place for us?'

'It's your choice. You've got to want it and what I think doesn't matter. But you could make it really lovely.'

Kerry squeezed my arm. 'I can't wait to tell Brendan.'

I pressed the button on the answering machine.

'Hello, Mirrie. I hear you've just chosen our new home for us. That's very sweet. But a bit strange as well, don't you think? I guess we've just got to get used to that, though, haven't we?'

I pressed the erase button. My hands were shaking.

Tony and Laura and Nick and I went to the pub together. That was the stage we'd jumped to, going out as a. couple, in a foursome. Everyone was very friendly to each other, wanting to get along. Nick bought us all a round and then Laura did, and then, out of the blue, just when things were going so well, I found myself talking about Brendan.

'I should be happy,' I said. 'I mean, Kerry's over the moon.'

'Who are we talking about?' asked Nick amiably, putting a crisp into his mouth and crunching it.

'Brendan. Kerry's boyfriend,' I said. 'Or rather, her fiancé. They've only known each other a couple of weeks and they've got engaged.'

'That's romantic'

'It makes me and Laura seem a bit staid and dull,' said Tony cheerfully, and Laura shot him an angry look that he blithely did not notice.

'But there's something really really wrong about him,' I said. 'He gives me the creeps.'

'That's all right. You don't have to marry him.'

'Didn't you go out with him, though?' asked Tony. Laura shot him another look. I think she may even have jabbed him under the table.

'Not really,' I said.

'How do you go out with someone not-really?'

'Not for long, I meant. It wasn't anything.' Most of me knew that I shouldn't be having this conversation, so I don't know why I then said: 'I finished it with him. It wasn't the other way round whatever he goes around saying.'

Nick looked puzzled and seemed about to speak, but Tony got there first.

'So what's the problem?'

'Well, for an example, he said this thing to me, when they announced they were going to get married.'

'What thing?'

'It was sick. He said…' I stopped dead. I could feel a flush burning its way up my body. Sweat broke out on my brow. 'He said something gross.'

'What? Go on!' Only Tony didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. Laura was glaring at me, and Nick was looking down at the table, fiddling with his beer mat.

'It was stupid. I don't know why I mentioned it.'

'Come on, Miranda. Otherwise I'll just have to imagine it!'

'I don't want to say.' How prissy did that sound? 'Let's drop it.'

'It was you who started it.'

'I know. I shouldn't have done. It's just stupid family stuff.'

'Gross, as in sexually suggestive?' Tony persisted.

'He just said I had…' I hesitated, then said, 'He said I had a nice mouth.'

'Oh.' There was a pause. Nick put another crisp into his mouth. Tony stared at me. 'Well, that's not so bad, is it?'

'No,' I said weakly. 'Just leave it now. Forget it.'

'So before me, it was this guy Brendan.'

'Yes. Not really. It just lasted a couple of weeks or so. I drifted into it. It was a mistake, really. Not even a big mistake, just a small one. It's just weird that he's turned up again like this…' Why the fuck were we lying in bed talking about Brendan? 'Who was before me, then?'

'A woman called Frieda, but that was quite a long time ago…' And so we were off into safer dangers, telling each other about past loves, giving each other our secrets the way new lovers do. This one adored me, this one meant nothing, and this one broke my heart… I once heard a discussion on the radio, where a man said you could only fall in love three or four times in your life. I lay there with Nick's arms around me and wondered how many times I'd been in love. I wondered, was I in love now? How do you know when you're in love?

A few days later, they arrived unannounced, ringing my doorbell when I'd just sunk into a hot bath after a sweaty day up a ladder. I cursed, pulled on an old towelling robe and opened the door, letting in the damp evening air. Kerry had an eager smile on her face, and Brendan was brandishing a bunch of flowers. 'Is this a bad time?'

'I was just having a bath.' I pulled my robe tighter and clutched it at the neck.

'We can make ourselves at home while you finish,' said Brendan. 'Can't we, Kerry?'

'No, it's OK. Come on in.'

I stepped back reluctantly and they followed me into the living room. Kerry sat on the sofa, but Brendan stood squarely in the middle of the room, gazing around proprietorially.

'You've changed where the furniture is.'

'A bit.'

'I liked it better the way it was before. Don't you want to put the flowers in water?'

'Yes. Thanks.' Actually, I wanted to jam them into the overflowing bin.

'Have you eaten?' he asked, as if I were the one who'd come barging in, not him.

'No. I'm not really hungry. I'll have a snack later.' I took a deep breath, then said, 'Do you want a coffee? Or something alcoholic?'

'Wine would be nice,' he said.

I took the bottle from the fridge that Nick had brought round the last time he came.

'Shall I open it for you?'

'I can do it fine.'

He held up his hands in mock alarm. 'Whoa! Of course you can, Mirrie. I was just being polite.'

I stabbed the corkscrew into the cork and twisted it down crookedly. When I pulled, only half the cork came out. Brendan watched me, smiling sympathetically, as I gingerly extracted the crumbled remains of the cork from the bottle and poured three glasses. He held his up to the light and carefully picked out a few bits of cork from the wine before drinking.

'We should have brought a bottle round ourselves,' said Kerry. 'Because, actually, we have a favour to ask.'

'Yes?' I asked warily.

'Well, something amazing's happened. You know that man who was coming round a second time to look at my flat on Sunday?'

'Yes.'

'He's made an offer. Only a bit less than what we were asking.'

'That's brilliant,' I said.

'He seems really keen. And he's a first-time buyer. He's not in a chain at all.'

'But he is in a hurry,' interjected Brendan.

'Ah,' I said. I had a horrible, horrible feeling that I knew where this was going.

'He seems to think,' said Kerry, 'that he can exchange and complete in a matter of a week or two. He says his solicitor told him that as long as she can do the search immediately and there's no problem with the survey, then he could be in by the end of next week.'

'It has been known,' I said dully.

'But Bren's already given up the place he was renting and we can't move into our new flat by then,' said Kerry, 'though the owner's in an old people's home and our solicitor promises she'll do it as quickly as possible.'

'So,' said Brendan, smiling at me. He poured himself a second glass of wine and took a slurp of it.

'So if that happens, which maybe it won't anyway, we're in a bit of a fix,' said Kerry. 'And we wondered if we could come and stay at yours. Only for a few days, a week or two at the very most.'

'What about…?'

'Of course we'd go to Derek and Marcia's,' said Brendan, 'except their house is going to be a complete bomb site for the next few months. Well, you know better than us the nightmare that can be to live in. They might even have to move out for a bit themselves.'

'Would it be possible, Miranda?' asked Kerry.

I wondered why Kerry wanted to stay with me in the first place. If it had been the other way round, I would have tried to keep a safe distance between Brendan and his ex-girlfriend, not put them in the same small flat together, even if – or especially if – that ex-girlfriend was my sister. Maybe I just had a more suspicious nature than she did. Or maybe she was asserting to herself, and to me and Brendan, that she knew she had nothing to fear. I looked at her, but I couldn't read her expression.

'My flat's so small,' I said hopelessly. 'I haven't even got a spare bedroom.'

'You've got your sofa bed,' said Brendan.

'It might not even happen,' said Kerry. 'And we won't get in your way. We'll keep everything tidy and cook for you, and you'll hardly notice us before we're gone. A week.'

'Haven't you got friends with a bigger place? Where you'd be more comfortable.'

'Miranda, you're my sister.' Kerry had tears in her eyes. She darted a look at Brendan and he took her hand and stroked it. 'You're family. It's not such a big thing we're asking. Mum and Dad were certain you wouldn't mind. I thought you wouldn't mind. I thought you might even be pleased to have us here. It didn't occur to me that

'Perhaps Mirrie is still finding it painful,' said Brendan softly.

'What?!'

'We shouldn't have asked you,' continued Brendan. 'It wasn't fair. Maybe you're not ready for this.'

I squeezed my wine glass so tightly in my hand I thought it would break.

'But you do kind of owe it to Kerry, don't you?' His voice was still soft and insinuating. 'After what happened. Mmm? Mmm?'

'Sorry?' said Kerry.

I stared at Brendan. There was red behind my eyes and I thought of throwing my wine into his face, of smashing my glass against his cheek, of kicking him in the legs, punching him as hard as I could in his belly, pushing him violently out of the door.

'Miranda?' said Kerry. 'Just a few days?'

I turned to her and tried to focus on her reproachful face. I thought of lying in my bed and knowing Brendan was a few feet away, on the sofa, with my sister. Of getting up in the morning and seeing him sitting at the kitchen table, as if he belonged there. Bumping into him on my way to the bathroom… But maybe I could stay with Nick for a night or two, or even with Laura. Maybe go away for the weekend somewhere. Anywhere.

'All right,' I said. 'One week.'

Kerry gripped my hand, and Brendan came towards me with outstretched arms. If he touched me, I would scream, vomit, become violent. I ducked out of reach.

'I'm going to have that interrupted bath now,' I said. 'Finish your wine.'

The water was tepid, but I lowered myself into it anyway. I closed my eyes and sank beneath the surface, where I waited for my heart to stop battering itself against my chest. When I came up for air, I heard a knocking at the door, Brendan calling my name.

'What?'

'The phone for you. I answered it. Hope you don't mind.'

'Who is it?' I asked, reaching for a towel.

'Someone called Nick,' said Brendan. 'He seemed a bit surprised to get me.'

I yanked open the door and marched through to the living room. 'I'll take it in my bedroom. You can put it down out here.'

'Is this Nick your new boyfriend?' When I didn't answer he put his arm around Kerry and pulled her close to him before saying, 'That's wonderful news, Mirrie. We're so glad for you.'

I pulled sharply at my bedroom door and it shut with a bang. I picked up the phone.

'Nick?'

'I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you?'

'All the better for speaking to you,' I said.

Then I heard breathing. There was someone on the other line. I waited until there was a small click. A few moments later, I heard the front door shut.