Lucy, darling! Make room your guests here, called out her sister, shoving a suitcase into the front hall with her foot.
It was Saturday, around noon, and Lucy had been drifting through her day with no particular worries when the doorbell rang.
Twice. Then three more times. Then a long, insistent buzz that wouldnt let go.
Tom, eyes glued to the football match, remarked, Someones rather determined.
Standing outside was Nina, her younger sister. Two enormous suitcases, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder, and the air of a woman whod made a monumental decision and was so pleased with herself it radiated from every pore.
Lucy, darling! Make room your guests here, she said brightly, nudging the first suitcase inside with practiced ease, as if shed been training for a luggage-pushing championship her whole life.
Lucy stepped aside on instinct. Forty years of sisterhood is no small matter your body reacts before your mind can catch up.
How long are you staying for? Lucy eyed the second suitcase.
Nina shrugged off her coat and hung it pointedly right over Lucys own mac then gave the house a once-over with the air of a foreman inspecting a site.
Im moving in. For good, Lucy. Youve got this big three-bedroom place, and there are only two of you. Clearly, youve a spare room. So I decided thats settled.
Lucy stared at her for a while. She decided.
In the lounge, Tom subtly raised the volume on the TV.
Nina, hang on. Are you being serious?
Oh, absolutely, Nina replied, already heading down the hall, peering into rooms. Ah, this one will do. Lovely and bright. Window overlooking the garden, nice and quiet.
It was the guest room. The one housing the ancient sofa, Lucys sewing machine, and three boxes of never-sorted odds and ends.
Nina Lucy caught her at the threshold. We havent even talked about this.
Whats there to discuss? Ninas raised brow was pure incredulity. Were family, Lucy. Family shares everything. Mum always said so to both of us.
Lucy thought, not for the first time, that today was not the moment to bring up their mother.
From behind the wall, the TV muttered about the weeks weather. Evidently, Tom decided hed better familiarise himself with every meteorological nuance.
Nina had opened her suitcase.
She settled in with a thoroughness and ease that bespoke ownership as if reclaiming what should always have been hers.
First, she shifted the bed. The headboard was too near the window draughty, Lucy, I cant bear it, my neck cant take it. Next went the sewing machine, shoved into a corner. Whys this even here? Do you still sew? No? I thought not. Lucy watched, silent, as the machine rolled away.
By evening, fluffy slippers huge, pink ones adorned with bobbles appeared in the hallway, looking every inch the eccentricity one found in overheated seaside shops. Next to them, Lucys neat black flats looked like a librarian standing beside a circus bear.
At dinner, Tom ate quietly, reading his soup as though in search of secret messages.
Soups rather good, he offered.
Soup is soup, replied Nina, businesslike. Tom, youve a fan somewhere? My rooms stuffy.
Tom looked up, met Ninas eyes, glanced at Lucy.
Ill have a look, he said.
Lucy sighed inwardly, a sigh so cavernous it rattled right down to her toes.
By the third day, Nina had set her sights on the fridge.
She didnt merely peek she analysed, like a botanist with a rare specimen.
Lucy, your milks gone off.
I know, just havent binned it yet.
And why do you buy three packs of butter at once? They just take up space.
Nina, its my fridge.
And? Im hardly a stranger, am I?
That was her catch-all. The skeleton key. Lucy heard it five times a day and always choked back the honest answer: actually, in this case, Nina, maybe you are. But she never said it.
By now, Nina was thoroughly ensconced.
Shed learnt Toms woodworking club schedule and could predict Lucys TV drama routine to the minute always showing up, tea in hand, ready for a heart-to-heart. About life. The now-absent neighbours. The weather. How the younger generation had no manners. Politics, at which Nina was an inexhaustible well.
Lucy listened, nodded, her eye half on the TV screen, as her heroine plunged through crisis. Her own wasnt so modest, she reflected.
Nina rose before anyone else. Lucy used to think she was a night owl, but apparently a lark, and not just any lark but one with a strict agenda. By six, the kitchen was alive: pots clanged, pans hissed, and Ninas cheerfulness filled the flat like birdsong at dawn.
Tom, eggs? Lucy, with tomato or without? I found cheese in the fridge a bit hard, but I grated it. No use wasting!
Tom shuffled in, face that of a man roused without cause. He sat. Ate eggs. Polite as ever: thanks.
Lucy, robe-clad, stood in the kitchen doorway.
Shes feeding my husband breakfast. In my home.
And something inside Lucy gave a faint, decisive click.
She poured herself coffee, sat by the window, and rang her daughter.
Emily, are you busy?
No, Mum, whats up?
Could you come round? I need to talk to you.
Emily arrived on Sunday, just before lunch, carrying a cake. She set it down, hugged her mother, and asked in a low voice, So, whats going on?
Lucy told her everything. The suitcases. The bobbled slippers. The sewing machine exiled to the corner. The rescued cheese. The daily eggs.
Emily listened, never interrupting, eyebrows slowly scaling their way nearly to her fringe.
Mum. Is she even paying anything? For food? The bills?
Says she will, for groceries.
Says, or actually does?
Lucy fell silent.
Says.
Emily glanced towards the hall, where the guest room was shut.
Just then, Nina emerged, greeted Emily with such open delight that it belonged to those who never carry secrets.
Emmy! Glad you came! Lucy, wheres the sugar? The bowls empty.
In the cupboard, said Lucy.
Mind if I take some?
Go ahead.
Nina scooped some, stirred it into her coffee, sipped, looking pleased.
Emily admired her in that tell-tale way of those whove already made a decision before the conversation has even started.
Aunt Nina, she said, when did you sell your flat?
A pause.
Brief, but telling.
How did you know? Nina set her cup down.
Aunt Gail mentioned it. Accidentally, on the phone.
Nina glanced at Lucy. Lucy stared out the window.
So what if I sold it? Ninas voice hardened defensively. Ive got my savings. Markets bad for buying just now. Ill stay awhile, save a bit more, then sort it all out.
Awhile meaning how long? Emily pressed.
Oh, a year or so, maybe two. Well see.
Lucy turned from the window.
Nina, she said quietly, evenly. You took the money and moved in here so you wouldnt have to touch it. Is that it?
Nonsense, Lucy, really.
Just answer.
Were family! said Nina, pulling out her last line, the ultimate latchkey.
But this time, Lucy didnt budge.
Emily and her family are moving into that room. Ive invited them. Theyll be here next Saturday.
Nina stared at Emily, who only sipped her tea, calm as one who knows exactly whats coming.
When did you arrange this? Nina began.
Ive managed, said Lucy.
It was a lie. Emily had her own place, with no intention of moving in. But Lucy gave Nina a calm, unwavering stare Nina clearly hadnt calculated.
For a moment, Nina was silent. Then she stood. Straightened her dressing gown.
I see, she said, crisp and cold.
She retreated.
Nina packed over two days.
Unhurried. As methodical as she had settled in. First, the rustle of bin bags, then the clatter of hangers, then the old tune of furniture shifting presumably setting the bed back. Lucy kept away. So did Tom.
Wednesday morning, Nina appeared in the kitchen with both suitcases, plonking them by the door.
Im off to Maggies, she said. Shes been pestering me for ages.
All right, said Lucy.
Do give me a ring sometimes.
I will.
Nina gripped her case.
Lucy, she said at the door, not turning round, youve changed.
Lucy considered a moment.
Yes, she replied. I suppose I have.
The door clicked shut.
Lucy stood in the hallway, staring at the hook now bare of Ninas coat. At the floor, vacant of its pink fluffy slippers. The house felt suddenly larger, brighter.
She wandered into the guest room. Opened the window.
She pushed the sewing machine gently back under the light where it had always belonged.
That evening, Emily rang:
So has she gone?
Shes gone.
And how are you?
Lucy thought for a moment.
Good, she said. Really good.
Outside the sky deepened towards dusk, Tom banged about in the kitchen, and it was one of those ordinary, comforting sounds that meant home.
