Chapter 6

Claudia could have been sleeping, and the baby inside her had no reality. Erin looked away, unable to believe her sister was incapable of knowing she was by her bedside. People in a coma sensed the presence of others, especially their voices, but Claudia was not in a coma: her brain had been destroyed.

Whose idea had it been that they go to the shops together that Saturday afternoon? She preferred to think it was Claudia’s, but had a vague recollection she had said she wanted to buy something for the baby, a thank you for letting her escape from London for a while.

It had been cold that day and breakfast television had shown thick snow covering London and the south-east, but Bristol had missed out and elongated clouds drifted across a clear blue sky. Erin had hoped to leave straight after lunch, but as usual Claudia had things to do, things being a string of phone calls, followed by a visit from Jennie, and a long discussion about Jennie’s actor partner, Ben, who, according to Claudia, had a roving eye.

Erin remembered waiting in the garden, checking the plants while trying not to think about Declan. How could she have been so stupid? Because being in love means you are more than a little crazy, and it was only when he let slip that his wife was pregnant (“but I don’t suppose it’s even mine”) that she had begun to use her head instead of her heart. Needing to escape – fast – Claudia’s house in Bristol had been the obvious choice, somewhere where there was a faint hope she might be able to re-start her shattered life.

‘Erin?’ Claudia had called her name, impatient, as though she was the one who had been waiting for nearly an hour.

‘Ten past three,’ Erin said, ‘soon be dark. Maybe we should leave it until tomorrow.’

‘What!’ She had given her a good-natured shove in the back. Good-natured but so hard she almost lost her balance. ‘Of course we can’t leave it till tomorrow.’ And the two of them had set off, heading for a special shop where Erin had promised to buy an extravagant present for the unborn baby.

Claudia knew the place well – Erin suspected she had visited it secretly before anyone knew she was pregnant, ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’

Claudia laughed. ‘I told them at the clinic I’d rather wait and see.’

‘I’ll believe you. How are you feeling?’

‘Starving. There’s this new coffee place and they have these amazing pastries with a chocolate and almond filling.’

‘You had a late lunch.’

‘God, you’re such a spoilsport, Erin. Hang on, I’d better phone Ollie.’

‘Why?’ Ollie was younger than her and slightly traumatized by the news he was going to be a father. ‘He had a bit of a meltdown.’

‘That doesn’t sound like Ollie.’

Claudia gave her a look. ‘You think he’s a soft touch. Ought to see what he’s like when he decides to dig his heels in. Don’t worry, I’ll cook him something nice. Or I could buy him a present although heaven knows what. Right then.’ She crammed a purple woollen hat on her head. ‘Honestly, Erin, you’re getting so bossy, like you’re my mother or something.’

‘Somebody has to knock some sense into you.’ At the words “like you’re my mother or something” Erin had flinched. Claudia had always been the bossy one.

They had expected a post-Christmas lull but if anything the shops were even more crowded than the previous week. People fed up with sitting at home, enjoying the festivities, or shopaholics unwilling to waste a precious second of bargain hunting?

The shop Claudia made a beeline for was stuffed with baby walkers, high chairs and nappy pails, and a special display of organic cotton dolls with flaxen pigtails and flowered smocks. A pram or a cot, even a first-size sleep suit was out of the question – they were both far too superstitious – but somehow the shoes were different and, when the baby was born, Erin would dash out and buy whatever else was needed.

‘Look at them,’ Claudia crooned, ‘they’re so cute.’

‘Yes, they are.’ Cute was not a word Erin had heard her sister use before. Ollie must have been working on her. Ollie was a softie. Claudia was as tough as old boots. ‘Quite sure they’re the ones you want?’

‘Certain.’

Erin opened her purse, and took out her card, and an assistant wrapped the shoes in tissue paper and placed them in a shiny carrier bag, holding it out with a smile, not sure which of them was to carry the treasured gift.

Claudia gave Erin an unexpected kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘It’s a lovely present.’

‘It certainly is.’

They stared at each other and burst out laughing. It was such an unfamiliar situation – devoted sisters shopping for a new arrival – and even Claudia, not known for her sensitivity, must have been aware how Erin was feeling. Not that she would have dreamed of mentioning it since she disliked tears, her own or anyone else’s.

Ahead of them, a woman with a double buggy was struggling to open the shop door and Erin hurried to help, glancing into the buggy and causing one of the infants inside to let out a piercing wail.

‘Driving me insane,’ the woman said, and Erin imagined a time in the not too distant future when the novelty of her baby had worn off and Claudia wanted her to childmind. Just for an hour or two, Erin, so I can get some rest.

The woman with the double buggy had disappeared and Claudia was waiting impatiently for Erin to emerge from her daydream.

‘Sorry’ She snapped back into the present. ‘Is that all or are there more shops you want to visit?’

‘What were you thinking?’ Claudia struggled with the top button on her coat.

‘Nothing’

‘Liar. Hang on, I need a couple of ready meals. And some bananas. See, I told you I was looking after my health.’

When they finally reached the end of the road, they had to wait several minutes before it was safe to cross. Erin was being sensible, taking care, and later the irony of this hit her, like a punch in the stomach. If, as she normally did, she had hurried Claudia across in advance of the coming traffic . . .

Having reached the other side, Claudia slowed down to a snail’s pace. Still almost four months to go, but her bump stuck out like someone on the brink of giving birth. Not because of the baby, Erin thought, all those blueberry muffins, Danish pastries stuffed with dried fruit and gooey filling, and lemon drizzle cake, her favourite, devoured in a single sitting. Some people lost weight when they were expecting – Erin guessed she would be like that – but Claudia had latched on to the proverbial eating for two. Freshly baked, Erin, smell it, who could resist?

As far back as she could remember, Claudia had been larger than her, taller, broader, even though she was the second born and, according to their mother, quite a scrawny baby. And, since Erin had been only fifteen months old at the time, she had to take her mother’s word for it. Claudia was also noisier, more gregarious, untidier and more popular. They were different in every way imaginable but, as their father liked to say, comparisons were invidious.

‘Mum would have loved grandchildren,’ Erin said, but a bus was passing and Claudia had to ask her to repeat what she had said, the second time she changed it. ‘I said, that woman over there’s got a lot of kids.’

‘Rather her than me,’ Claudia laughed, ‘some people breed like there’s no tomorrow.’

‘I’m looking forward to being an aunt,’ Erin said, ‘but I want to be called Erin, not Auntie Erin.’

‘Auntie Erin.’ Claudia thought about it with a silly smile on her face.

‘Don’t say it.’

‘You don’t know what I was going to say.’

‘Yes, I do, a dried up old spinster. I hate the word spinster.’

‘Anyway, you can’t be a spinster. Spinsters are virgins.’ She pulled at Erin’s sleeve. ‘You never talk about Declan.’

‘No point. Ancient history. And don’t say there are plenty more fish.’

‘I wish I’d met him. I can spot a bad one a mile off. What did he look like? When you’re feeling better I’ll introduce you to scores of beautiful young men. There’s this Japanese guy. . .’

As they made their way home, Claudia complained that the walk to the shops had been fine but returning up the hill, was likely to finish her off for the day. ‘Oh, well, never mind, soon be back and now the central heating’s been fixed the house should feel like a furnace.’

The previous evening, a man Erin had never seen before had turned up at the house. She had no idea why he was there but when she came down from the loft, to empty her pedal bin, she heard Claudia say, ‘No. No, I’m sorry, you’ll have to find someone else.’

What were they talking about? Not the central heating. The jewellery Claudia made, and sold in the market? The man was in his late twenties or early thirties, possibly Turkish or Greek, and Claudia had not introduced him when she came out of her den and found Erin skulking in the hall, and a moment later he was shown unceremoniously through the front door.

Much of Claudia’s life was a mystery, but that was fair enough and Erin had long since given up asking about it, something she now regretted profoundly. Back in August, after she split with Declan, she had been only too grateful for a temporary home in the converted loft space, and had also hoped for some moral support which, as it turned out, had failed to materialise. Claudia was so besotted with Ollie she talked of little else and when, a few weeks later, he moved into the house, Erin had felt like an intruder and stayed in her “penthouse” flat – Claudia’s description, not hers – self-sufficient with her tiny shower room and table top cooker, licking her wounds like an abandoned cat. But self-pity gets you nowhere, and the dormer window let in plenty of light, so it was not long before she unpacked her materials and started on the first of the illustrations.

‘Wait!’ Claudia yelled.

‘Sorry.’ She was day dreaming again, and walking too fast.

‘I asked how your illustrations were progressing.’

‘Not too bad. The book’s about—’

‘Yes, guinea pigs. You said. I always wanted one but Mum wouldn’t let us have any pets.’

‘She was afraid you wouldn’t look after them.’

‘All right, I did neglect the goldfish, but—’

‘I found it floating on its side in murky water.’

‘And I screamed the place down, right?’

‘I expect so,’ As a child, Claudia had always made her feelings abundantly clear. She was a strong character – everyone said so – and at the time Erin had been unsure if that was a compliment or a criticism. In any case she had mellowed a little as she grew older, or was it that Erin had learned how to stand up to her? Their relationship had remained tricky and she had often felt she had to tread on eggshells, whereas Claudia was free to speak her mind.

‘The editor wants some line drawings,’ she said, ‘as well as the full colour illustrations. Line drawings are cheaper to reproduce.’

‘Sorry?’ Claudia was brushing crumbs off her coat.

‘I said . . .’ But Claudia had no interest in the illustrations, and Erin recalled how once she had remarked, in all seriousness, that it must be nice having your hobby as your work.

It was getting dark and, as they passed the protesters at the building site, Erin wondered how the police had allowed them to invade the place. It was being converted into luxury apartments and the locals were angry, wanted – needed – affordable homes. Dressed in dark clothes, some wearing balaclavas, they shouted through megaphones, and one had handcuffed himself to a scaffolding pole.

Erin’s hands were full with the baby shoes in one bag and a collection of ready meals in the other. Claudia held a doughnut in sticky paper. Red jam ran down her chin and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, glancing at Erin and grinning.

‘Got to keep my strength up.’

‘Of course.’

‘After the sprog’s arrived I’ll go on starvation rations. I mean, after I’ve stopped breastfeeding.’

Claudia breastfeeding? It was such an unlikely idea. But people changed when they had a baby. Hormones kicked in. Maternal feelings took over. For the first time, it occurred to Erin that Claudia might be quite a good mother. Inconsistent, strict one minute, indulgent the next, but that was no bad thing for a child to learn. Life was not constant. Neither was it fair.

Exhaust fumes from the line of traffic filled the cold air and made them cough. A cyclist, clad in yellow lycra, raced by, his muscular leg jerking Erin’s arm and making her mouth a silent obscenity. Claudia had crossed the road and was looking up, calling out to one of the protesters. Impossible to hear what she was saying. Words of support, Erin assumed.

What happened next would return endlessly, in slow motion like one of those nightmares when your muscles refuse to work. A crashing noise as a length of scaffolding fell to the ground and bounced away. Claudia’s purple hat at her feet. Claudia herself lying on the pavement with one arm flung out and the taut skin of her abdomen exposed to the cold. No blood. The pole must have missed her. She had jumped out of the way and slipped. She was all right. Any moment now, she would scramble to her feet, laughing, and not even worried about the baby since she was so well padded, as she liked to describe herself.

But no sooner had Erin breathed a sigh of relief than to her horror she saw blood seeping from the side of Claudia’s head and running across her half-closed eye. A crowd had gathered and a young man was shouting into his phone. Someone said, Oh, my God, and a child’s high-pitched voice asked, ‘Is she dead, Mummy, is she dead?’

What did she do? Crouch down or stand helplessly above her? Scream or remain silent, dry-mouthed? People gazed up at the building then down at the scaffolding pole. The protesters were silent. An Asian woman, with a long, dark coat over a blue and white sari, stepped forward, taking over, and Erin heard her authoritative voice ordering the young man, ‘don’t move her.’ Traffic slowed and drivers strained their necks to get a better view. ‘She’s my sister,’ she told the Asian woman, ‘and she’s pregnant.’

The woman had her hand on Claudia’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Did she know what she was doing? Was she a doctor, or a nurse? Removing her coat, she draped it over Claudia’s motionless body, leaving only her head visible. A siren grew closer. Cars pulled up to allow a screeching ambulance to jump the lights. Two paramedics knelt beside Claudia, checking if she was still breathing, fixing a collar round her neck and carefully lifting her onto a stretcher before disappearing into the back of the ambulance.

‘Can I come with you?’ Erin’s voice came out as a croak. ‘I’m her sister.’

One of the paramedics helped her inside and she felt her head swim, and sat down, hanging onto the edge of the seat.

As they sped up the hill, she managed to get enough breath to ask if Claudia was alive. The paramedic hesitated then nodded, murmuring something about how it would only take a few minutes to reach the hospital.