SAM
Saturday morning. I woke to the smell of coffee and for a moment felt flooded with happiness. Growing up, the smell of coffee always meant it was the weekend, with Mum and Dad at home, slow mornings spent in PJs nagging Dad to leave the paper and play with us. But I wasn’t at home, of course. I was in my flat, with Mara, who always drank tea. And then I remembered. Ed was back! And in a millisecond my mind woke up and remembered the day before in a whoosh. Ed surprising us all in the kitchen, we’d been at the pub, I hadn’t told the girls something, bumping into Charlie. Charlie! I scrabbled for my phone next to my bed, sending a pile of magazines onto the floor. Nothing. Sweet FA. I groaned.
Mara was in her chair at the table when I went through to the kitchen, her head bent over a crossword. It wasn’t until she gave me a cool greeting that I remembered the weirdness of the previous night, with Ed getting all close and serious with me, and Mara looking so freaked out. I hovered in the doorway for a moment, rubbing my eyes. Should I talk about that right now? Get it all out? Probably, but to be honest, I just wanted a cuppa, so I left it. I was probably reading into everything too much anyway.
‘Coffee, Sam?’ Ed asked. He was smiling an easy smile and I forgot worrying about the twins and me. Ed’s coffee is not to be angsted over. It is one of life’s true pleasures, to be savoured right down to the bottom of the cup.
‘You don’t have to ask,’ I said, and I sat down in my jim-jams to wait. There was no way I was going to do something as meaningless as showering when there was one of Ed’s coffees on offer.
Mara may not drink coffee but while Ed was away she had cared for Ed’s coffee machine like it belonged on an altar. Which was perfectly right of her. Ed’s coffee machine – like his camera – was like a gift from God to him. Watching Ed then it was as if the squat little machine was the only coffee maker in the whole world. He touched it lightly, almost stroking it, going through the ritual of grinding, packing, cup placing, button pushing, milk frothing in this kind of erotic meditation. That sounds strange, I know, but somehow he made it all look like a perfectly reasonable way to spend your time. And the sounds that accompanied it – sniffing the beans as they were poured into the grinder, happy little grunts as the metal coffee holder clicked into place, the quiet ‘ah’ as he added the milk to the silky blackness. It was better than television.
‘Here’s one for you, Ed. City in India, home to the Red Fort,’ Mara cut across Ed’s blissful little moment.
He answered absently. ‘Delhi.’
‘Delhi.’ Mara wrote it into the crossword.
‘OK. Another word for earache. Seven letters.’
‘Earache?’ I offered, knowing I shouldn’t. She never normally asked for help when it was just me – I rarely had anything of value to add. She looked up just long enough to wither at me. I poked my tongue out at her.
My phone beeped. I opened the message in lightning time, then threw the phone on the table in disgust when I saw who it was from.
‘Watch out!’ Mara said as it skidded dangerously close to her crossword.
‘Keep your hair on, it’s just a phone.’
‘Do you have to text at the breakfast table?’ Yes, she really did say that.
‘This isn’t the bloody breakfast table – it’s just a table. Do we have a dining table hidden away somewhere, in a hidden dining room perhaps? Or even better, a table just for texting, in a hidden texting room perhaps?’
‘Sounds rude.’ Ed came over with my coffee then, just in the nick of time. It wasn’t fair of me to take out my disappointment on Mara. I took the coffee gratefully.
‘Who was it anyway?’ he asked.
I took a sip before I answered, closing my eyes as the bitter syrup slid over my tongue. Beautifully textured, just the right temperature, with hints of smoke and caramel undertones. Fuck me, that’s good. When I opened my eyes, Ed was smiling and Mara, bemused, was looking at me like I was a nutter, a look she gives me a lot.
‘It was the silly cow herself,’ I said.
‘Who’s that?’ Ed asked.
‘Rebecca,’ Mara and I answered at the same time. Mara smirked in my direction.
‘How did you know?’ he asked Mara.
‘Lucky guess,’ Mara answered, and returned to her crossword.
‘She’s the only silly cow we know,’ I explained. ‘It’s just a pity I have to be related to her.’
‘Oh, your sister.’ Ed finally caught up.
‘Unfortunately.’
Mara smirked at her paper again.
‘She’s not that bad. In fact, she’s quite fit if memory serves,’ he said.
‘Fucking typical.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I mean you’re a typical man, sees a skinny girl and thinks she’s hot. Did you not notice that she doesn’t have the beautiful personality to go with it?’
‘She’s amiable enough.’
I choked on my coffee. ‘You’ve got to be joking!’
Ed grinned. ‘Maybe I find her calculating gaze mysterious?’
‘You’re bloody winding me up.’
I started smiling with him then. For a moment I was worried. I’m not sure I could be friends with someone who actually did like my sister.
I took another sip. ‘It wasn’t actually Rebecca. It was Mum, texting me about Rebecca. Apparently she’s split up from James. Mum wants me to check up on her.’
Mara groaned.
‘Exactly,’ I said.
‘Exactly what?’ Ed asked.
I caught Mara’s eye again. We were forgetting to translate. The few months Ed had been away were obviously long enough for him to forget how the shorthand Mara and I use – built up over years of muttering semi (or otherwise) bitchily about other people – works.
‘Well?’
‘Sorry, Ed. When Rebecca breaks up with someone, we usually see more of her.’
Mara groaned again.
‘And that’s a bad thing?’ Ed asked.
I got up then. ‘Basically, Ed, you’re too bloody nice.’
It was time for a shower. I went to find some clothes to take to the bathroom. That was the crazy thing about Ed – he was a seriously nice person and I’d never known him to judge someone else harshly, especially if he didn’t know them well. Being so nice was bound to get him into trouble one of these days.