Russ watched Cindy stop to chat to his new neighbour. He’d been invited for drinks to Cindy’s too but wasn’t going because his leg was throbbing. The fall hadn’t been good for it. He hoped it would have calmed down again by the next day.
To his relief, it was fine in the morning. Must be the combination of exercises and rubbing with anti-inflammatory gel and of course his leg was getting better all the time, so setbacks would be briefer. He’d have to go more carefully in future, though, and get a handrail put up on those outside steps.
He might do some sketching. That was physically easy. He wasn’t conceited enough to offer his sketches for sale, because he wasn’t good enough. He was far better at 88filming than drawing, but he enjoyed it nonetheless and sometimes produced rough sketches to help him visualise how to film something.
He began working on a sketch he’d planned of a lively young crow pestering its mother for food. It was based on a photo he’d snapped a couple of days ago during a stroll down to the lake. It was good that there were wooden benches at intervals there. He liked to sit and watch the world go by – the animal as well as the human world.
When the phone rang, he briefly contemplated leaving it unanswered, then shook his head and picked it up. He’d promised himself to interact more with people once he got here. ‘Hi. Russ here.’
A wobbly voice with a slight French accent said, ‘Russ, it’s me, Justine.’
His heart sank. ‘Oh, hi sis.’
The only answer was a sob.
Here we go again, he thought. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Everything. Can I come and stay with you? Just for a little while, till I get my bearings in the UK and work out what I’m going to do?’
He didn’t want another of his half-sister’s dramas dumped on him, but how could he turn her down when she was clearly deeply upset about whatever it was? ‘Yes, of course you can.’
She started sobbing in earnest. ‘Thank you. I didn’t know what I’d have done if you’d said no.’
Camped on his doorstep until he let her in, probably, he thought. She was good at dramatic gestures to get her own way. ‘When do you want to come?’
‘Today. I’m in Swindon already. I caught a bus here from 89the airport at Heathrow. Can you come and pick me up?’
‘Can’t you get a taxi?’
‘No. I haven’t got any more money.’
He closed his eyes, upset at the mere prospect of her coming to stay. He didn’t want to live with her ever again, because she was forever making scenes, but the mother they’d shared was dead and Vera was his aunt on his father’s side so no relation to Justine. He didn’t know much about her father’s family because his mother’s second husband hadn’t stayed around for long after his child was born.
‘I’d better pick you up, then. Whereabouts exactly are you?’
‘In a café near the bus station.’
‘What’s its name?’
‘Oh. I didn’t notice. Just a minute.’ There was a fuzz of voices, then she came back on the phone. Jacko’s Kaf spelt K-A-F.’
‘Right. It’ll take me about half an hour to reach you, depending on traffic. Stay there.’
‘All right. But please hurry.’
There was always some need to hurry where Justine was concerned. Was she ever going to get her life in order? He’d thought she was happy and safe with the new guy, who’d seemed to really care for her, or at least had been physically infatuated by her. It had seemed more promising than usual because two years in one relationship was a record for her.
What could have gone wrong?
Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have a bed for her and he growled in annoyance. They’d have to stop and buy one on the way home. Might as well buy two while he was at it. And bedding. He would probably have other guests from time to time.90
Most of all, he was doing this because just before her death, his mother had begged him to keep an eye on her youngest child if anything happened to her. He’d hoped it’d never happen because looking after Justine was no picnic. Oh well, he’d cope.
Annoyed about this interruption just as he was enjoying sorting out his studio, he locked the house and went out to his car, rubbing his aching leg.
Life was like that, hit you on the head with a problem just as you were relaxing. And make no mistake about it, Justine usually brought trouble with her.
Thank goodness she’d got off the drugs. There had been a difficult year or two when she went off to university and she’d never finished the art course.
Well, she wasn’t getting into his art materials or using his studio. She was a messy worker who wasted a lot of paint and paper.
He had trouble finding a parking spot near the station, so it was more like three-quarters of an hour before he got to the café.
He saw Justine sitting at a table near the window, dabbing her eyes and staring anxiously out. She didn’t smile or stand up when she saw him coming towards the café.
He went inside and over to her table. ‘I’ve only got short-term parking so can we leave straight away?’
She grabbed his arm and said in a low voice, ‘I’ve not got enough money to pay my bill.’
‘OK. I’ll do it.’
When she stood up, he was surprised to see that she was pregnant. He wasn’t sure how far gone she was and she 91quickly pulled her coat across her belly, as if to hide it.
After he’d paid, he gestured towards the door. ‘Come on. We can’t discuss whatever’s wrong here.’
He was about to lead the way out when she tugged on his sleeve.
‘My luggage.’
There was a large suitcase, rather battered, as was the backpack she was carrying herself. ‘How come you’re using such shabby luggage?’
‘I’ll explain later.’
He picked up the suitcase and she followed him.
‘Please don’t be angry with me, Russ,’ she begged once they were outside.
‘I don’t know what’s happened, so how can I be angry or otherwise? Let’s wait till we get home to discuss whatever’s gone wrong, shall we?’
When he got her and her luggage into the car, he said, ‘I’ve only just moved into my new house, so haven’t got much furniture yet. We’ll have to stop on the way there to buy you a bed, unless you’ve a longing to sleep on the floor?’
‘No, of course not. I thought you were renting a furnished flat?’
‘That had only one bedroom, so you’d have been out of luck at moving in with me there. Fortunately for you, I moved into a new house recently. I wasn’t expecting guests so soon, though.’
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting to have to dump myself on you.’
‘What’s happened to lover-boy?’
Tears filled her eyes again and he didn’t want her having one of her hysterical fits, so said hastily, ‘No, tell me about it when we get home. You can help me choose some beds first.’92
After a couple of minutes of ostentatious mopping of eyes, she asked, ‘Do you have any spare bedding?’
‘No. I’ve got nothing extra, hardly any crockery, either. We’ll eat up at the hotel tonight and go shopping for food tomorrow.’
‘All right.’ She looked at him. ‘Thanks, Russ.’
Which was more than he’d expected. On the few other occasions she’d descended on him, she’d acted as if she was entitled to his hospitality. This beaten-looking, pale imitation of his half-sister worried him.
Or was it another act?
Her indifference to what they bought worried him even more. Normally she enjoyed shopping and drove him mad fiddling around to match or tone colours together perfectly. Now, he quickly chose beds to suit his own taste by bouncing on them to make sure the mattresses were firm, and paid extra to have them delivered later that afternoon. They settled for cream-coloured sheets and pillowcases and flowery duvet covers. That would be enough for the time being.
She didn’t say anything as he drove the rest of the way home, but at least she’d stopped crying.
When they were inside the house, he said, ‘All right. Sit down and tell me what’s wrong’
She started talking as she made her way across to an armchair. ‘It’s Pierre. He doesn’t love me any more.’
‘Oh? What makes you think that?’
‘He doesn’t want to get married.’ She laid one hand on her stomach and sat down carefully. ‘He wants to make his own child a bastard.’93
As he’d thought, a lovers’ quarrel, probably a storm in a teacup.
‘Did he throw you out?’
‘No. I waited till he’d left on one of his stupid business trips and then I came back to England. Only I didn’t realise he hadn’t paid off my last credit card bill so I didn’t have access to enough money to travel comfortably. I’d forgotten how bad it is to travel cattle class and I’m exhausted.’
‘Have you spent all this quarter’s allowance from your trust fund already?’ By anyone else’s standards she was well off.
‘Yes. I needed a few things. And my next payment from them isn’t due for another month, so I’m flat broke.’
‘How are you going to manage till then without any money? Sounds as if it was a stupid time to leave Pierre. He’d at least have kept you in the style to which you’re accustomed.’
She gave him one of her wounded looks.
‘I’m not responsible for you, Justine, so you’re not staying long. I have my own problems, which you don’t seem to have noticed, and I’m not, never have been and never will be rich. In fact, I’m going to need all my own money to live on. I’m still having trouble with my leg because of the accident.’
It might be a bit of an exaggeration about his finances, but it’d never do for her to think he was going to be a soft touch.
‘Sorry. I should have asked how you were. I thought you’d have recovered fully by now.’
‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’94
She looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you never think of other people. Why should that have changed?’
Silence, then, ‘That’s what Pierre said when he told me about your accident in Australia.’
‘Perhaps you need counselling about that aspect of your life?’
She sighed. ‘He said that too. As if I’d go to a shrink! Especially one he chose. He’s a controller, that man. I can’t do anything without his permission. You’ve no idea.’
He wasn’t going to discuss that. He rather liked Pierre.
A pause, then, ‘Can I stay here till I’m solvent again, Russ?’
‘Not for a whole month, no. You can stay for a day or two, though, just while you sort things out with Pierre.’
‘But—’
He held up one hand in a stop sign. ‘Or until you’ve found some other idiot to sponge off. You trained as a commercial artist even if you didn’t finish the course and you’re quite good. Why don’t you try getting a few casual jobs and earning your own money?’
She sniffed scornfully. ‘Doing boring, repetitive adverts! As if.’
‘That’s how most people earn a living – doing boring stuff. Money is money, however you earn it. Now, you look like you need a shower and a change of clothes. You can’t have a lie-down before the bed arrives, though. I’m going to be working in my studio but when you come down, give me a shout and I’ll get you something to eat.’
He took her up to what would be her bedroom, showed 95her the bathroom she’d be using and found her a towel. Then he left her to it, going into his studio and shutting the door. He groaned as he leant against it. Oh, hell! Looking after Justine was the last thing he needed.
Would Pierre come after her? He might. But he’d not know where Russ had moved to. Very few people did yet.
On that thought, he got out his phone, found Pierre’s number and texted him the new address and the fact that Justine had just turned up. Thank goodness, Pierre had contacted him after the accident to ask how he was doing. Not Justine, Pierre!
She didn’t come down to find him, so he didn’t go hunting for trouble.
When the beds arrived, he and the delivery men found her curled up on the floor in the spare bedroom, fast asleep. Her belly looked bigger than Russ had expected. How far along was she?
‘Pregnant women!’ one of the men said in an indulgent tone. ‘My wife was just the same. Kept falling asleep all over the place.’
Russ didn’t correct him about Justine being his wife. He watched her wake up, clap one hand to her mouth and hurry into the bathroom.
When the sounds of her throwing up came echoing out, the man grinned. ‘My wife was like that too. Cheer up, Mr Carden. It only lasts nine months.’
Russ shuddered at the mere thought of even one week with her. He wasn’t having his peace and quiet spoilt by his immature half-sister.
He prayed that Pierre would contact him quickly. 6
Russ watched the big van drive away then wandered into his studio, unable to settle. He stood staring out of the side window at the rear garden of the next house and saw Simone come out and shake a duster, holding her face up to the sun and smiling. What a difference there was between the two women.
He had to do something to prove to his selfish half-sister once and for all that firstly he wasn’t rich and secondly he had better things to do with what money he did have than take care of her. But would that be enough to ensure that she wouldn’t try to use him again?
It really ought to be up to Pierre to look after her and what was presumably his child. But did he still want her? Whether he did or not, surely he cared about his unborn child?
On that thought Russ got out his phone and checked it again, but Pierre hadn’t replied to his message yet.
‘Hurry up, damn you!’ he muttered.
He picked up a pencil and began to doodle, which usually helped him to think more clearly. To his surprise he found himself drawing Simone’s face. It came out well, too. His sketches of people didn’t always do that, for some strange reason. He was better at sketching animals.
Simone had not only been kind to him, she’d made him laugh as well. He added a few more pencil strokes. He felt as if he had known her and her face for a long time. She wasn’t beautiful, she was … comely … an old-fashioned word but then her attractiveness was old-fashioned.
‘Who’s that woman next door? I thought you said an older couple lived there.’
He jerked round to see Justine standing just inside the doorway. ‘My temporary neighbour is an Australian. She’s swapped houses with them for a while.’97
‘Oh. I thought she might be a close friend of yours.’
‘I’m working on that.’
‘But she’s fat! How can you even be interested in her?’
She scowled at him, though what business his friends were of hers he didn’t know. ‘I like women with nice curves.’
‘You always have been weird, Russ. Fancy being attracted to fat women.’
‘She isn’t fat by anyone else’s standards but yours.’
‘Of course she is. We know now that fat is unhealthy and thin is best.’ She gave one of her elaborate, artificial shudders. ‘The woman must be weird too. Who’d want to come to this dump of a place, stuck out in the middle of nowhere when they could be in a sunny country lying on a beach?’
‘You, apparently. Feel free to leave at any time.’
She began to walk round, fingering his things. ‘This is a lovely room. I could work in here.’
‘You’re not going to do that. And please don’t touch my art materials. I have my own way of arranging them. In fact, please go and wait for me in the kitchen.’ When she made no attempt to leave, he grabbed her, ignoring her whine of protest and pushing her gently out of the door. He shut it firmly.
Hmm. She’d be in here again as soon as he turned his back since the door didn’t lock. The trouble was, this room was very important to him and he didn’t want her messing around in it at all. She’d spill paint on the new carpet and mess up his supplies, and he’d hate her to get her hands on his cameras.
He remembered suddenly that he had an old lock in one of the unpacked boxes standing along one wall. He’d used 98the lock to secure the shed at a rented house a couple of years ago and removed it when he left. He wasn’t in the habit of throwing away perfectly good items that might be useful one day.
He opened the door, checking its construction. Yes, he could fit the lock into it quite easily and he’d do it before he went to bed, because Justine had no respect whatsoever for other people’s possessions.
She didn’t seem to have much respect for anything, actually. How she’d managed to get Pierre to stay with her for so long was a miracle. She might be physically lovely, especially her face, and able to turn on the charm when she wanted, but she was selfish to the core and incurably untidy. Russ could never have lived with her chaos.
She ought to be wearing a sign saying Only rich men need come near me. She was stupid to have run away from Pierre.
Russ’s phone pinged and he got it out of his pocket quickly. ‘Ah.’ He made sure the studio door was firmly shut before he answered, switching into adequate French as he and Pierre chatted.
‘Is Justine all right, Russ?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s not, um, hysterical or anything?’
‘Not hysterical but acting rather strange.’
‘Can you keep her there till tomorrow afternoon? I’ve had a doctor looking after her and we thought she was settling down. I can hardly drag him out and take him to England in the middle of the night, though. I’ll have to see him first thing and get a recommendation for a similar service in the UK.’99
‘Service?’
‘Mental health. She’d grown more unbalanced than before because she’d been taking drugs again till I found out and stopped it.’
‘Oh hell, no.’
‘I’m trying to keep her calm until the child’s born. She seemed to have settled down so I took the opportunity to nip across to Frankfurt for an important meeting. I thought I’d made sure she didn’t have any money, but she took one of my statuettes and I should think she’s sold it. I’d removed all her fancy luggage, too, but she must have found something in the attic. When I got back, she’d left and taken some of her clothes.’
Unbalanced was a good way of describing Justine. Her moods had always been up and down, and had got worse since their mother died. Had that led to her going back to drugs? Ah, who knew what motivated the silly girl?
‘So, you’ll look after her?’ Pierre prompted.
‘Yes, I’ll keep an eye on her tomorrow. But she’s not staying here any longer than that.’
As he put the phone away Russ nodded in satisfaction. It would all be sorted by tomorrow night. He opened the packing box he thought the lock was in and yes, there it was!
Better and better.
Before he started work he peeped into the living room. Justine didn’t notice him. She was lounging in front of the television. Heaven alone knew which channel she was watching but she’d turned up the volume and was wagging her head to and fro in time to some ghastly thumping music.
He had the lock fitted in his studio door within half an hour. Piece of cake.100
When he went back into the living room, the music was still blaring loudly and Justine was asleep again.
He turned the volume down and got himself a sandwich, switching to a news channel as he ate it.
Two hours later he shook her awake. ‘You need to eat something.’
‘Not hungry. Food makes me sick.’
‘How about something light like a yoghurt with a bit of fruit?’
She considered that, head on one side, then nodded slowly. ‘I think that might stay down. And it wouldn’t be fattening, well, not much.’
When she’d finished most of the yoghurt, she pushed her bowl aside.
‘Time for bed now,’ he said.
‘It’s far too early to go to bed. Are you mad?’
‘This is the time I like to go to sleep and I’m not having that racket on. It’ll not only disturb me, it’ll disturb the neighbours. If you’re staying here, you’re living by my timetable anyway.’ He switched off the television to encourage her on her way.
It felt like having a wild animal in the house. She’d never seemed this irrational before. Was it because of her pregnancy – or because of the drugs?
Russ didn’t know her well enough these days even to guess. He’d not lived with her in recent years and only seen her at rare intervals.
Pity he’d had to bring her back here. But you had to look after your relatives when they were in trouble, even the nuisances.
Well, she wouldn’t be able to get into his studio at least 101and he only had to keep her here until tomorrow, then Pierre would come and take her away – and hopefully, keep her away permanently.
With a bit of luck she’d sleep late in the morning.