‘I hope for his sake he’s a long way away by now,’ said Celia. ‘That’s what I should do. Just take off.’
‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘It happened in my house.’
‘Don’t keep saying that!’
‘Not saying it won’t make it go away. I’m responsible. Me. No one else. Just me.’
After that night things had gone ominously quiet and Celia had seemed to shrink into herself, become smaller somehow.
So here she was, Annie thought bitterly. Back at her dear old mum’s. Who was being a bitch – as usual.
‘Coming round here pretending you give a shit,’ she was yelling. ‘Who do you think you’re kidding?’
And maybe that was justified. Annie knew she should have called before, seen how her mother was getting on. She knew she should have contacted Ruthie long before now, too, and begged her forgiveness – grovelled if necessary – but every time she felt the impulse to get in touch the guilt kicked in and she just couldn’t face it.
‘Is he okay, that’s all I’m asking.’
‘Oh, he’s okay. Half dead, but doing just fine. She must let some scum in there, for a thing like that to happen. But what am I saying? Of course she does, the cheap whore. She let
Annie raised her hand to hit her mother as hard as she could. She wanted to wipe that pathetic, malicious smile off that drunken, shrivelled face. But she held back.
‘Go on – hit me. Is that what that whore teaches you in that place?’
Annie swallowed her anger and ignored Connie’s taunts.
‘Is he recovered?’ She let her arm drop.
‘He’s
‘What?’
‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you.’ She grabbed Annie’s arm and started bundling her back out the door.
‘And Ruthie?’
Annie had to ask the question, much as she really didn’t want to. She was on the step trying to take in what Connie had said about Eddie. If it was true – and why would Connie lie? – Max must be devastated. And when she thought of Max, she thought also of Ruthie. Ruthie must be in the thick of it all, the poor cow.
But Connie didn’t answer.
The door slammed shut. Annie heard the bolt go across.
‘What about Ruthie?’ she asked the closed door. She kicked it once, hard. ‘What about poor bloody Ruthie?’ she repeated hopelessly.
She shouldn’t have come. She’d wrecked everything, why couldn’t she just accept that and leave it alone? Hating herself, she turned and walked away.
When she got back to Celia’s Kieron was there, sitting at the kitchen table talking to Ellie. He looked up as she came in, his eyes laughing.
‘You forgot, didn’t you,’ he said to Annie.
Annie stood dumbstruck. ‘What?’
Ellie got up and left the room, smiling at Annie in passing and mouthing: ‘
‘You said you were going to sit for me today, at my place. Eleven o’clock. I phoned when you didn’t show up, but Ellie said you’d gone out. I thought I’d come over and wait.’
‘Oh.’ God, how had she forgotten? Her mind was whirling. And Celia had always stressed that she should keep the Delaneys sweet. What a fool she was. ‘I’m sorry. I completely forgot.’
‘Not very flattering,’ said Kieron.
‘Sorry,’ Annie said again.
Kieron looked at her as she sat down. He said: ‘I’m not like the rest of them, you know.’
‘The rest of who?’
‘The Delaneys. I’m not part of that world.’
‘Oh.’
‘So there’s no need to be walking on eggshells trying not to upset me. I won’t take offence. There’ll be no nasty comebacks. Just say if you’ve changed your mind about the sitting.’
‘I haven’t.’
‘Well, good.’
‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.’
‘I’ll try to help with that,’ smiled Kieron. ‘You can talk while you sit.’
‘Talk to a Delaney about Carter trouble? I don’t think so,’ said Annie.
‘I told you. I’m not into all that. I’m like a priest, I hear confessions. And the confessional is confidential.’
Annie found herself looking at him properly for the first time. Ellie was right, he was easy on the eye – and so friendly. He stood up. He was tall and gangly, with big bony hands. His jacket was tweed with leather elbow patches. There was a long, unravelling, purple scarf around his neck.
‘You’re staring,’ he said.
‘Sorry.’ Annie stood up, flushing.
‘You think you like the cut of me, do you?’
Annie had to smile too now. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘When I’m ready.’
‘I was jealous of my sister, Ruthie,’ Annie said as she sat in Kieron’s flat. It was way up in the top of a house in Shepherd’s Bush, with cold north light streaming through big windows. It was piled high with canvases and stank of paint and linseed and turps. There was a bed and a little kitchenette in one corner, and a Bobby Darin LP was playing on the turntable on the floor. There was a one- bar electric fire at Annie’s feet. It was a workplace rather than a home, but it was kept well.
‘Keep the fuck still, won’t you?’ said Kieron lightly, busy sketching away. ‘Why? Is she prettier than you?’ He stood back from the canvas and looked her over. ‘That’s hard to believe, at the risk of getting you a big head.’
‘She’s not prettier than me,’ said Annie.
‘What then?’
Annie shrugged. ‘Dad left. I was a daddy’s girl. Mum loved Ruthie, not me. I reminded her of Dad.’
‘Ah, that must be the handsome side of the family.’ Kieron was back at the sketching.
‘Are all your family as stunning as your sister Orla?’
‘Redmond is, they’re twins after all. But we’re not talking about my family, remember.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Keep still, you.’
‘For how long, exactly?’ Annie was squirming on the stool. She couldn’t feel her lower half at all any more, she’d been on this damned stool for an hour. She was cold, despite being wrapped up in cardigan and skirt. ‘And we’re talking about the Carters, let me remind you. My sister’s one of them now.’
‘And happy to be so, I would imagine. Living the high life and enjoying it.’
‘I’ve heard different.’
‘She’s unhappy?’
‘I don’t know. Mum won’t talk to me. She thinks I’m the world’s worst whore because I set out to get my sister’s man.’
‘You can see she’d be peeved.’
‘I was jealous! How many times do I have to say it, I was wild with jealousy. Years and years of it. She had everything I wanted, just the thought of him and her together made me want to rip her eyes out. I was going mental with it, I had to do something.’
‘Well you did that – and now I guess you’re sorry?’
Annie pulled a face. ‘It’s too late for that. Mum won’t listen. I can’t get in touch with Ruthie, she’s buried down in the country somewhere so I don’t know what’s happening with her.’
