‘Marcus?’ Gwen instantly pictured a bendy-limbed Lothario leaning towards her sister, his long fingers reaching for her golden hair. She suppressed a shudder.
‘He’s been brilliant,’ Ruby said. ‘And the yoga really helps with stress.’
Gwen refrained from snorting at the idea of Ruby being stressed. Ruby led a charmed life straight from the pages of a John Lewis catalogue while she’d been living like … Well. If she was being kind to herself, she’d say a free-spirited artist. If not, she’d have to go with hobo.
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Ruby said, as if reaching into Gwen’s mind and plucking her thoughts clean out. ‘You’ve never faced up to responsibility. As a mother –’
‘Here we go,’ Gwen said, irritation leaping to the surface. ‘I’m not a mother so I don’t understand.’
‘Well, you’re not. And you don’t.’
This was why she shouldn’t spend time with her sister, Gwen thought. At a distance she felt almost fond; at close quarters she could happily strangle her. ‘Do you meditate?’
Ruby looked startled. ‘Of course. The mind-body connection is fundamental to –’
Gwen shook her head and then found she couldn’t quite stop. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into the palms. A tight ball of anger lodged in her stomach and, all at once, she realised why. ‘Let me get this straight,’ she said, surprised at the venom in her own voice. ‘All this time, I’ve been keeping away from you, not wanting to infect your precious life, your precious family with my “alternative” ways and you’ve been doing bloody yoga.’
‘You make it sound like a bad thing. I thought you, of all people, would be pleased.’
Gwen closed her mouth. There was nothing she could say to fill a pit of ignorance that deep. The unfairness of it burned bright and Gwen was surprised that Ruby couldn’t see the raw energy sizzling under her skin. She counted to ten to stop herself from saying something she would regret later and then settled on, ‘You must’ve had quite the epiphany.’
‘It’s not the same as your … stuff,’ Ruby said. ‘Yoga has been around for hundreds of years; it’s a spiritual thing, it’s not dangerous, it doesn’t ruin people’s lives.’ She counted the points off on her fingers, finishing with, ‘And it doesn’t mark you out as a weirdo. Not these days. I mean, you can buy yoga pants at The White Company.’
‘Well, if that’s what’s most important to you. The look of things –’
Ruby shrugged. ‘It’s a factor. Especially for Katie. You remember what school was like.’
Gwen repressed a shudder. Millbank Comp had not been a friendly place. Not for either of them. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages. I don’t want to argue with you,’ Gwen said. She pushed the anger and hurt back down and forced out, ‘If yoga makes you happy, I’m happy for you.’
Gwen couldn’t look Ruby in the eye, though. Instead she began to explore. She opened the door to the larder. Old newspapers were stacked neatly in a cardboard box on the floor, a broom hung from a nail on the back of the door and there were empty glass jars filling the top shelf. A spider ran across the floor.
Ruby called across from the living room. ‘It’s got the original fireplace.’
Gwen joined her, trying not to shiver. The living room was misnamed. The walls were painted in oppressive purple which, combined with the patterned carpet and sofa, made Gwen’s eyes itch. She sniffed. There was the shut-in house smell, but with something else underneath. A herb of some kind?
‘Good cornicing.’ Ruby pointed upwards.
Gwen pulled the curtains back, revealing big sash windows. ‘These are nice.’
‘Original?’ Ruby said.
‘I think so. I don’t think Iris got around to doing a modernist makeover.’
Ruby prodded the sill. ‘Probably rotten. Nightmare to look after, but people lap up this kind of thing. Very saleable.’
‘Mmm,’ Gwen said non-committally. She showed Ruby the upstairs, pausing underneath the loft hatch. ‘I suppose I should look up there.’
‘I’m not doing it. That’s what a man is for.’
‘How very 1950s of you.’
‘Oh, please. Spiders, itchy insulation, low ceiling. Why keep a dog and bark yourself?’
‘True romance indeed. How is David?’ Gwen asked, smiling as she pictured her brother-in-law. He was married to his work somewhat, but a good guy nonetheless.
‘Busy. As usual,’ Ruby said.
‘But still utterly besotted.’
Ruby grinned. ‘Of course.’
He and Ruby had met at the same time Gwen was putting in regular time in the back seat of Cam’s car. When Ruby found out she was pregnant, David didn’t hesitate to drop to one knee and – this was the part that would endear him to Gwen for ever – he’d made it look like he’d been planning to propose for months. Ruby had believed him and so she’d said yes and then he’d worked like a dog to finish his architecture degree while supporting his new wife and baby. Nobody could resent the beautiful house they now lived in, their Audi and healthy bank balance. Well, Gwen corrected herself, someone would. Someone always did.
The third bedroom at the end of the corridor was filled with cardboard boxes and black bags. ‘What a mess.’ Ruby wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t envy you this.’
Gwen barely heard her. Ruby’s voice had retreated, become thin and insubstantial, leaving space for the all-too-familiar sensation of Finding. Not now. Not in front of Ruby. Not when she was being so friendly and yoga-calmed.
It was no good. She couldn’t fight it. The tunnel vision had arrived, the edges of the room filled in with black shadows and she knew that the only way to get things back to normal was to obey the impulse. One of the bin bags was calling to her. Inside there was a tangle of old handbags, shawls, scarves and gloves. Gwen’s hand plunged in and her fingers closed around
