was wrenching off her apron and straightening her hair in one fluid movement. ‘I thought he was coming at four. I haven’t even put my lippy on … Are you all right?’
Treena turned and, through the blur of my tears, I could just make out her face as she gave a small, hopeful smile. ‘Mum, Dad, this is Eddie,’ she said.
And a slim black woman in a short flowery dress gave us a hesitant wave.
19
As it turns out, as a distraction from losing the second great love of your life, I can highly recommend your sister coming out on Christmas Day, especially with a young woman of colour called Edwina.
Mum covered her initial shock with a flurry of over-effusive welcomes and the promise of tea-making, shepherding Eddie and Treena into the living room, pausing momentarily to give me a look that, if my mother had been the type to swear, would have said WTAF before she disappeared back down the corridor to the kitchen. Thom emerged from the living room, yelled, ‘Eddie!’ gave our guest a huge hug, waited on jiggy feet to be handed his present and ripped it apart, then ran off with a new Lego set.
And Dad, utterly silenced, simply stared at what was unfolding before him, like someone dumped into a hallucinogenic dream. I saw Treena’s uncharacteristically anxious expression, felt the rising sense of panic in the air and knew I had to act. I murmured at Dad to close his mouth, then stepped forward and held out my hand. ‘Eddie!’ I said. ‘Hi! I’m Louisa. My sister will no doubt have told you all the bad stuff.’
‘Actually,’ Eddie said, ‘she’s only told me wonderful things. You live in New York, don’t you?’
‘Mostly.’ I hoped my smile didn’t look as forced as it felt.
‘I lived in Brooklyn for two years after I left college. I still miss it.’
She shed her bronze-coloured coat, waiting while Treena wedged it onto our over-stacked pegs. She was tiny, a porcelain doll, with the most exquisitely symmetrical features I’d ever seen and eyes that slanted upwards with extravagant black lashes. She chatted away as we went into the living room – perhaps too polite to acknowledge my parents’ barely concealed shock – and stooped to shake hands with Granddad, who smiled his lopsided smile at her, then went back to staring at the television.
I had never seen my sister like this. It was as if we had just been introduced to two strangers rather than one. There was Eddie – impeccably polite, interesting, engaged, steering us with grace through these choppy conversational waters – and there was New Treena, her expression faintly unsure, her smile a little fragile, her hand occasionally reaching across the sofa to squeeze her girlfriend’s as if for reassurance. Dad’s jaw dropped a full three inches the first time she did it, and Mum jabbed his rib repeatedly with her elbow until he closed it again.
‘So! Edwina!’ said Mum, pouring the tea. ‘Treena’s told us – um – so little about you. How – how did you two meet?’
Eddie smiled. ‘I run an interiors shop near Katrina’s flat and she just popped in a few times to get cushions and fabric and we started talking. We went for a drink, and later to the cinema … and, you know, it turned out we had a lot in common.’
I found myself nodding, trying to work out what my sister could possibly have in common with the polished, elegant creature in front of me.
‘Things in common! How lovely. Things in common are a great thing. Yes. And – and where is it you come – Oh, goodness. I don’t mean …’
‘Where do I come from? Blackheath. I know – people rarely move to north London from south. My parents moved to Borehamwood when they retired three years ago. So I’m one of those rarities – a north and south Londoner.’ She beamed at Treena, as if this was some shared joke, before turning back to Mum. ‘Have you always lived around here?’
‘Mum and Dad will leave Stortfold in their coffins,’ Treena said.
‘Not too soon, we hope!’ I said.
‘It looks like a beautiful town. I can see why you’d want to stay,’ Eddie said, holding up her plate. ‘This cake is amazing, Mrs Clark. Do you make it yourself? My mother makes one with rum and she swears you have to steep the fruit for three months to get the full flavour.’
‘Katrina is gay?’ said Dad.
‘It’s good, Mum,’ said Treena.