Glory rang the doorbell three times before Michael answered.
“Oh!” Glory said as the door swung open. “Hi.”
“You look surprised to see me in my own house,” he responded coolly.
“Just wasn’t—I thought you’d be at work.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“OK, is Faith in? I texted her to let her know I was on my way.”
“She’s in the kitchen,” Michael said over his shoulder as he walked away.
The atmosphere in the house was tense. The absence of the children left a vacuum, and it felt like Glory could hear every sound made by Faith in the kitchen echo through the emptiness.
“Where’s Estie and ’Lijah?” Glory asked. Faith was opening and shutting cupboards, rearranging the already spotless space. The cleaner must have just been. When Faith turned around, her eyes were raw and bare without their usual carefully applied adornments.
“What’s wrong?” Glory asked, and her sister self-consciously dabbed at the skin around her eye sockets.
Faith shook her head and smiled weakly.
“I didn’t know you were dropping by.”
“I texted you. What’s wrong? Where are the kids?”
“Upstairs.”
Faith leaned against the countertop and exhaled, throwing her head back. Glory approached her and lowered her voice.
“What’s going on?”
Faith beckoned Glory through to the utility room and pushed the door closed behind them. The washing machine was whirring away, finishing off a spin cycle, but Faith still spoke in half whispers.
“We just had a massive argument. He’s going away for work, again. He’s hardly ever here during the week and now he’s volunteering for work trips like he doesn’t have a family.”
“Are you scared of him?”
“What?! No!”
“Then why are we hiding in here and whispering?”
Faith drummed her nails against the top of the washing machine. “You don’t get it.”
Glory marched from the small room at the back of the kitchen through to the living room, where Michael sat on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table and the TV tuned to Sky Sports.
“Long time,” Glory tried to begin casually, although there was nothing casual about the way she stood over him.
Michael turned down the volume on the TV. “Yeah, it’s been awhile. How have you been?”
“All right. You?”
“Yeah, you know how it is, same old.”
“Mmm,” Glory nodded as if she knew. “Work still busy?”
Michael dragged his eyes from the TV, pausing the action to give Glory his full attention.
“As always. Did Faith send you to tell me off?” His mouth was stuck in a smug half smile, which sent bubbles of irritation through Glory’s blood.
“Just asking.”
“Right.”
He turned back to the TV and hit play.
“You get why Faith’s not happy though, innit?”
“Why don’t you tell me.”
His eyes were fixed on the players jogging up and down the pitch.
“It’s kind of unfair that she’s basically housebound with Esther and Elijah all the time while you’re out and living your life.”
“Unfair?” Michael now turned his full attention toward Glory. “Did she say that?”
“Sometimes it seems like you’re preoccupied.”
“Preoccupied with what?”
“You tell me.”
Glory folded her arms, ready for a fight.
“I’m working. Someone’s got to pay for Faith’s Barbie house.”
“Why are you saying it like that? Barbie house.”
Michael shook his head, dismissing Glory with a little laugh.
“Are you really though?”
“Am I really what? Working? Of course—what else would I be doing?”
Glory shrugged. In her peripheral vision she saw Faith enter from the kitchen. Sensing her presence, Michael turned around.
“Is this what you’ve been telling your sister? That I’m doing something else? What do you think I’m doing then?”
“What? No! All I said was we—”
“Is that what the real issue is? You think I’m lying? You don’t trust me?”
“Michael, I never—Glory? Why did you say that?”
“It’s a fair question to ask!” Glory said, looking from Michael to Faith and back again. “He’s always staying the night at his mate’s place in Battersea and going away for weekends. Whose job requires that of them?”
“A job that pays well! That pays for this house, that means that Faith can live in comfort and not have to work and be fifty-something still managing a care home!”
“But who told you that my sister wanted to be some idle fucking housewife?!” Glory bit back.
“Who told you that she didn’t?!”
Glory opened her mouth to respond, but shut it immediately when she saw Faith’s eyes throwing daggers at her across the room.
“Is that what this is about, Faith?” Michael asked, catching his breath.
Faith stammered.
“N-no, I-I never—”
“Why can’t you just tell me how you feel like an adult instead of playing these childish games?”
“What? Glory?! What did you say to him?”
Caught between her sister and her brother-in-law, Glory suddenly felt lost for words.
“I just—I mean, like . . .” and she trailed off when she realized she no longer knew what she had meant.
Michael tossed the control onto the sofa and stood up.
“Going for a drive,” he said, and Faith stayed glued to her spot until she heard the front door shut behind him and the car engine start up.
“What. Just. Happened?” Faith asked, taking angry steps toward Glory, her eyes blazing and nostrils flared.
Glory flopped onto the sofa and picked at the edge of a cushion.
“Why don’t you speak up for yourself with Michael, though?”
“Speak up about what? About stuff that I don’t care about? Why are you so fixated on this housewife thing?” Faith’s voice was growing hoarse with emotion.
“Our mum wasn’t a housewife though, Daddy didn’t let her just stay at home idle,” Glory said in glum defiance.
“Are you even listening to what you’re saying? Mummy isn’t Anna Wintour editing Vogue! She works in residential care where her senile patients call her a golliwog or spit at her. And let her? You’re talking like either of them had a choice! Do you know how much the mortgage costs after they remortgaged a couple of years ago? Do you know how many times Michael’s salary covered it to stop them falling behind? Do you know how much outstanding council tax they owe?”
Glory said nothing. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Faith so she concentrated on a loose bit of stitching.
“You’ve got to start seeing things for what they are, Glory! You’re not a child any more.”
Faith took a breath and waited for her sister to say something. When a response didn’t come, she turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs.