I think you secretly love it, Issy says breezily, attempting to stop Hope snuffling. She wafts a box of pastel-coloured tissues in Hopes direction. Even youve got to admit that despite being the bad guy, Hans is a hottie.
Hope pulls a lemon-yellow tissue from the box, a rose-coloured fan appearing as if by magic to take its place.
Im a lesbian, she states, in case anyones forgotten. And even if I wasnt, I dont think Id be resorting to animated characters.
She blows her nose noisily into the tissue. It sounds like a steam train heading into a tunnel.
Ive always had a thing for Flynn Rider, I admit, handing my sister the full-to-the-brim glass of wine Id poured her. I think its his chiselled jaw. Maybe if I grew my hair a bit longer and threw it out of my bedroom window Id get someone like that to climb up it. Mind you, itd take years to grow. Its the one major downside of curly hair, every centimetre in visible growth is actually three. I finger a strand of hair ruefully.
I dont think there are any Flynn Rider lookalikes wandering around South Yorkshire looking for plaits to climb up, so the slow growth of your hair is the least of your worries. Anyway, youre not looking for a man, are you?
Im most certainly not, I reply brusquely.
Issys mentioned on more than one occasion that she thinks getting under a man to get over a man might be a step forward, but it hasnt occurred to me. Ive not so much as looked at another male that way. I dont want to, because no one else can possibly compare to Justin. How could they? Weve got ten years of shared history. Hes my first love. My first everything, in fact. Anyway, were on a break, were not broken.
After what happened with you-know-who, Im not putting myself out there, I say. Im not sure of my status anyway, theres no noun to describe someone whos on a break. Im not ready to lay my soul bare to any man, not if all they want to do is trample over it.
Ive said these lines so many times that its a well-rehearsed speech, but the doubtful looks on both Issy and Hopes faces make me wonder how convincing I actually am. Maybe I should say them with a bit more oomph.
Come on, lets get this film back rolling, says Issy. And is this wine mine? she asks, gesturing to the full glass sitting on the mantelpiece. Because I can feel myself sobering up by the second, and tonight I plan to get very, very drunk.
*
Were all glued to the television screen as the tinkly piano starts up and Elsa sadly climbs the snow-covered mountain, her purple cape trailing through the snow behind her. Even Hopes transfixed, although shed never admit it.
I love this song, Issy says, pulling a cushion closer to her stomach. Even though I must have heard it a million times, it still gets me right here. She points to the centre of her chest, pulling an over-exaggerated sad face.
Thats why Elsas so popular, I say. She gives up everything to be true to herself and doesnt give a damn what everyone else thinks. Shes a much better role model than the sappy princesses of old. Shes spunky.
Did you seriously just use the word spunky? Hope shakes her head in disbelief. Her eyes already look hazy; the crying and the wine a lethal combination. Thats cringe-worthy, no one uses that word any more. Plus, its one of those icky words that makes my skin crawl. That and moist. She grimaces.
But Elsa is spunky. Its the perfect word to describe her.
Whatever.
The misfit princess runs through the snow-covered land singing about her new-found freedom and how she can finally be the person she truly is rather than who everyone else expects her to be, and before long all three of us feel every ounce of the ice queens angst as we sing along to Let It Go. Elsa removes her glove and conjures magical wisps of ice from her hands and we shout the rousing chorus at the top of our lungs, well past caring what the neighbours think. Were out of tune and Hope isnt entirely sure of the words, but we dont give a damn. Its fun.
It feels good to sing, doesnt it? Hope says out of the blue. Her cheeks are flushed now, the pinkish hue making her appear much less frail than shed looked when she arrived. To let rip and shout. Kids do it all the time, but as adults were expected to have found other ways to express ourselves. But the truth is, nothing compares to getting everything out of your system by having a good old yell.
Letting go, says Issy solemnly, before realising what shes said and dissolving in a fit of drunken giggles.
I read something somewhere about singing being good for the soul, I recall. Didnt it say people who sing live longer? Or were happier? I cant remember, but it was all positive. Funnily enough, Im feeling better for singing too and my words are spilling out at an incredible pace. Weve all had a tough year. Ive been low since Justin went to America, even though the sensible part of me knows that taking a break was the only option. That doesnt make it any easier though, Im still wondering if hes on a date with some American beauty or out on the pull. And Hope, who knows? Maybe Amara will come round and realise you need to be together in time, but right now you need to put yourself first. Dont look at me like that! I know you think Im fussing, but I want my only sister to be happy.
I reach over and squeeze Hopes hand, one small pulse that carries an infinite amount of love.
And Is, I know youre happy being single, but I saw your face when your sister told you about her latest scan.
Issy swallows, and part of me wishes Id kept quiet. This is a sensitive subject. But its too late now, its already out there, so I carry on regardless. Youre going to be the most amazing mummy one of these days, when the time is right. The best. Issys lips form an O, and I think she might cry, so I quickly move on. But for now, all three of us need to pick ourselves up and take control of our own happiness. Its like Elsa says, were free! Who knows where well be in a month, let alone a year. We need to increase our happiness, channel the good emotions. Im on a roll, fire in my belly and well-lubricated by the wine. Theres no stopping me now.
And how do you suggest we do that, oh wise one? asks Hope, her voice acerbic.
A club, an informal choir. Make Friday nights a musical spectacular and sing ourselves silly! Think how good it feels to shout and laugh and forget about all the crappy stuff. I beam, convinced its a winning idea. We should make it a weekly event, a celebration of the weekend and being happy on our own rather than out in the meat market that doubles as town on a Friday night. Its got to be better than having your bum pinched by some drunken chancer out on the pull, and if it raises our spirits too then its a bonus, surely? What do you reckon? Isnt it the best idea ever?
I wait for their response, fully expecting them to throw back a string of reasons why its a terrible idea. The pause is excruciating.
Oh, go on then, says Issy finally, knocking back the last of her wine. But no more people. The last thing I want is a house full of strangers on a Friday night.
And no more Frozen, Hope adds emphatically.
Okay, I agree, knowing this is as much enthusiasm as my sisters likely to muster. But can I ask Connie if she fancies it too? Four people isnt too many and she could do with a boost. Shes hating her job and shes fed up with being hit on by sleazeballs every time she goes out. This could be exactly what she needs.
And no more Frozen, Hope adds emphatically.
Okay, I agree, knowing this is as much enthusiasm as my sisters likely to muster. But can I ask Connie if she fancies it too? Four people isnt too many and she could do with a boost. Shes hating her job and shes fed up with being hit on by sleazeballs every time she goes out. This could be exactly what she needs.
I grin and a small squeak of excitement slips out despite myself. Im so looking forward to this. I havent been part of a club since I left the Brownies.
The Singalong Society for Singletons, I say wistfully. To moving on and letting go!
Chapter Two
Friday 16th September
*The Lion King Connies choice*
Are you sure well have enough food to go round? Hope asks. She looks doubtful, which is ridiculous seeing as the table is laden correction, overloaded with snacks.
Seriously, theres all sorts of goodies spread out on it, from breadsticks to sausage rolls to the black forest gateau centrepiece (my idea apparently theyre due a resurgence, according to the supermarket magazine I shoved in my trolley on a whim last weekend). There are also four blue-and-white-striped cereal bowls overflowing with a variety of crisps and savoury snacks, three bottles of wine, the remnants of a bottle of Jack Daniels, a six-pack of Diet Coke and the token punnet of raspberries Connie insisted made an appearance if she was going to come. Shes always been a health freak, although she goes wild on a Friday night and allows herself a small amount of carbs. How weve been friends for twenty years is beyond me. Junk food is too good to go without, in my opinion.
Are you joking? Theres tons. Its only us three and Connie, were not feeding an army returning from battle, Issy replies. And were only five minutes from the supermarket if we need anything else. Its not like we live in the back of beyond.
You dont think I should just nip out and get
No, I answer. I ensure Im using my school voice, firm and decisive. Weve got plenty. Theres pizza in the oven too, remember, and theres that tub of chocolates from the end of term on top of the kitchen cabinet if we want anything sweet later on.
Ooh, I forgot about those, Issy says, licking her lips with anticipation. Bagsy me the coffee creams.
I dont think anyonell be fighting you for those, Hope replies, pushing forward onto her tiptoes to try and reach the metal container from on top of the kitchen cupboards. Issy had insisted they be put well out of the way to avoid temptation after the three of us had broken the seal and eaten a generous handful each during the culmination of Frozen last Friday. But Im taking the toffee fingers out and putting them to one side. Theyre my favourites.
She nudges the tin down from the ledge, her fingertips edging the container forwards until it tips and she has to quickly readjust her arms to stop it falling to the floor with a clatter. She looks puzzled as she shakes the tub. Im sure there were more left than this, she says, peeling back the lid to reveal a very sorry-looking layer of multi-coloured wrappers that barely cover the silvery bottom of the tin. Own up, whos been secretly raiding the choccies?
Issy looks guilty and when she speaks her voice is unusually soft and meek.
It was me. I couldnt help it. There wasnt anything else sweet in the house and I had rotten period pains. So I took them upstairs, got back into bed and ate them. I only meant to have a few, but it was last Saturday when I had that phone call from Penny. It scared me to death when she said shed been bleeding I couldnt get the thought that she might lose the baby out of my head. I needed something to cheer me up and a ridiculous amount of chocolate and the box set of Friends was my only hope.
You should have told me you were struggling, I say. Im trying to sound light, but it takes a whole lot of effort not to sound miffed. Were supposed to support each other. You couldve come to me.
I couldnt, Issy explains, twisting her silver ring around her finger. I wasnt up for talking about it and Id have only felt guilty if youd seen me pigging out. All I needed was a wallow and a sugar kick you know how it is sometimes. Look, Ill go and get another box of chocolates now if you want. If we mix them in with whats left itll be fine.
Its not about the chocolate! My nerve endings are tingling, and not in a good way. If youd told me what was the matter, I could have done something. I could have helped. There was no need for you to be cooped up alone in your room all day when I was here, willing to listen.
Issy smiles sadly and it breaks my heart. But what could you have done, Mon? Nothing. All I needed was a duvet day and to stuff my face. I had a sleep, had a cry and then pulled myself back together. It was no big deal.
I could have listened, I insist. Even if thats all I could have done, I could have listened.
But I didnt want to talk, Issy answers patiently. She speaks slowly and deliberately, as though explaining something to a small child. Maybe the teacher in her is coming out too, its obviously a quirk of the trade. It was too raw. Its nothing personal against you, but it was easier for me to hide away and cry it out. I needed to get my own head around it, thats all. Anyway, everythings fine with Penny now. It was just a scare.
A wave of sadness floods through my body, as though my bloods running cold in my veins. Theres nothing Issy wants more than to find the love of her life and start a family, and the news that her little sister is having a baby had hit her hard. That Issy hasnt got a partner at the moment is irrelevant, the maternal instincts are still chewing away at her. The constant pressure from the glossy magazines she greedily devours doesnt help either, what with their never-ending reminders of ticking body clocks and staged photos of celebrities parading their precious new arrivals around the flawlessly landscaped garden of their luxury mansions. I can only imagine how hard Issy finds it having such a desperate longing within her but being unable to do anything about it. It seems terribly unfair.
When Penny announced she was pregnant it had come as a shock to everyone. Shes only seventeen, and a young seventeen at that. There had been no talk of a boyfriend, no late nights, no tell-tale signs of illicit secret liaisons. Shes doing well at college and keeping on top of her studies everything had been pootling along the same as it always had.
Then one blazing hot day at the start of the summer holidays Issy had received a phone call from a terrified Penny crying that she didnt know what to do, that her parents were going to kill her when they found out she was pregnant. She was already four months gone by that point, the hint of a bump just beginning to show on her tiny, child-like frame, and Issy had been torn between the need to support her sister and the all-encompassing desire to give in to the internal pain that demanded she shut down and hibernate.
But Issys too kind-hearted a person to hold a grudge and when that natural mothering instinct kicked in, it kicked in hard. Shed gone with Penny to break the news to their parents, who hadnt managed to hide their initial distress and disappointment. Shed taken her to the GP, who confirmed the pregnancy and attended the first hospital appointment, where the trainee midwife had taken three vials of blood, and a scan which showed that, yes, Penny was eighteen weeks gone already. The radiographer had said he was ninety per cent sure the baby was a boy. And Issy had smiled along, excited about the prospect of becoming an aunt, even though every one of these steps served to remind her of what she didnt have.