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Chapter Four

Georgine ran home that evening, her backpack bumping in rhythm with her stride and the winter chill nipping at her ears. A hot shower was her first priority. She’d just finished getting dried and dressed when her doorbell rang.

She paused.

When the bell rang again she crept to the head of the stairs, heart jumping. A silhouette at the glass wrapped its arms around itself and hopped from foot to foot. Georgine waited. The silhouette was unmistakably female and none of the collection agents who’d harassed her to date had been, but was this some new gambit to see if she’d be less cautious with one of her own sex?

The silhouette raised her arm, the fist appearing hazily against the glass as she knocked. ‘Georgine! Are you there? Georgine!’

Georgine let out her breath with a whoosh, almost laughing at hearing the impatient tones of her sister, Blair. ‘I’m coming!’ After hurrying down to the hall, she fumbled with the lock and chain and threw open the door.

‘Brrrrr!’ Hunching theatrically, Blair scurried in. ‘It’s like a fridge out there!’ She paused to give Georgine a big chilly hug. ‘Lovely to see you, sis! What are your plans tonight? I’m hoping you don’t have any and we can order a pizza or something. Isn’t your heating on?’ She paused at the thermostat on the hall wall to turn it up.

Georgine, following, turned the thermostat down again. It gave a disappointed click. ‘No money for takeaway.’ She made a mental inventory of the contents of her kitchen. ‘I could make pasta with cheese sauce and a few bits of veg, if you’re not feeling ultra-fussy.’

‘Hmm.’ Blair had reached the kitchen and was already filling the kettle. She turned and gave Georgine one of her beautiful smiles. She took after their dad’s mum, Patty France – pronounced ‘Paddy’ by the American side of the family. Both possessed the same high-wattage smile that made others feel almost lucky to be smiled upon, and melting brown eyes to keep the world under their spell. Patty’s hair had long since turned white, but had once been brown and curly like Blair’s. ‘Got any wine?’ Leaving the kettle to boil, Blair opened the fridge and inspected its contents. Or lack of.

Slowly, she closed the door and turned around to gently run her hands up and down Georgine’s arm, her expression dismayed. ‘You’re not still broke?’

Georgine made a face. ‘I’d be OK if Aidan hadn’t left me in the poo. I get paid on Thursday so I’ll be able to stock up then.’

Blair switched the kettle off. ‘Pop your coat on. Let’s nip to Booze & News for a bottle of wine. My treat,’ she added, picking up her bag.

‘Are you sure? Melanie’s prices are a lot steeper than a supermarket.’ As Blair merely rolled her eyes in reply, Georgine fetched her coat from its usual home on the newel post and zipped it up as they stepped out under the street lights. Top Farm Road was edged by the parked cars of villagers home from work.

‘So you still haven’t paid off the mess sodding Aidan left behind?’ Blair slipped her hands into the pockets of her coat, a colourfully embroidered Joe Brown number. Temperatures had plummeted in Cambridgeshire the moment the calendar flipped to November.

For Blair, Georgine usually made light of her problems, financial or otherwise. Neither of them had ended up with the life they’d expected and the knowledge that Georgine had played a part in their change of fortunes lay between them like a dozing dragon, liable to breathe fire when disturbed.

But fatigue swept over her. She was tired from running to and from work, tired of hiding from creditors she hadn’t wronged, tired of an empty fridge two days before payday. And tired of pretending everything was fine.

‘I’ve made inroads into the outstanding utility bills. The utility companies are only too used to this carry on and they’re letting me catch up the arrears over time,’ she admitted wearily, making for the turn onto Great Park Road and the footpath to Ladies Lane. ‘But now I’m being hunted by debt collectors.’ The final sentence was out before she could run the words through her inner censor. Realising from Blair’s stunned stare how dramatic she sounded, she tried to soften it by adding a laugh.

But the laugh wavered.

By sheer will she forced the tears to the back of her eyes, her throat tightening until it hurt, her fists clenching in her pockets. As the ground was firm and frosty she chose the route over the playing fields instead of turning the corner onto Main Road. There was enough light from surrounding houses to light their way. ‘I try,’ she croaked. ‘I really try not to let the financial situation get to me, but anything to do with debt makes me panic. I relive that implacable lack of sympathy and it makes me feel alone and frightened.’

‘Oh, Georgine!’ Blair gasped, tugging on Georgine’s arm to bring her to a halt. ‘That’s awful! Can’t you report them to someone? They can’t harass you for Aidan’s debts. Tell them to piss off!’

Glad that there was nobody about on the playing fields on this wintry early evening, Georgine buried her face in her sister’s shoulder, the fabric of the stylish coat warm against her cheek. ‘I’m scared to talk to them. Scared that if I say he doesn’t live here now they won’t believe I don’t know his current address – which he won’t tell me! And it’s such a freezing November. The inside of my house feels like Narnia but I daren’t turn the heating on. I su-suppose pipes will begin to burst next. And that can’t happen because I couldn’t afford the payments for the contents insurance so if my carpets get ruined, they stay ruined.’

Blair’s arms tightened around her as she said, ‘Shh,’ comfortingly and ‘Oh, shit, Georgine,’ less comfortingly.

Georgine recovered enough to disengage herself from Blair’s sisterly hug and find a screwed-up tissue in her jeans pocket to trumpet into. ‘Sorry. Things are getting on top of me.’ She made another attempt to laugh, finding it hard to meet her sister’s troubled gaze. ‘You don’t have to worry. I’ll get through this.’

‘Right.’ Blair sounded unconvinced.

‘Honestly, I’m all right,’ Georgine insisted as they resumed their march towards Booze & News. Except for a bone-deep fear – despite Aidan’s probably well-meant but actually empty assurances – that somehow she’d be pulled deeper into his problems and lose her little house. She couldn’t! It was just a modest inner terrace with two bedrooms, one bathroom, a lounge-diner and a kitchen, but it represented the tiny amount of progress she’d made.

She linked arms with her sister, nodding to a dog-walker passing the other way with a snuffly pug. ‘Don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m being a wuss.’

‘You’re never a wuss. You’re so brave and resourceful that I suppose anxiety is something I generally think is reserved for other people,’ Blair said quietly. They passed the Angel Community Café, tinsel at the window and lights still showing.

‘Usually is.’ Georgine pushed open the door to Booze & News with a ting!

‘Hello, folks,’ said Melanie from behind the counter. Her eyes fell on Georgine’s face like a missile homing in on its target. ‘What’s the matter?’

Instantly, Georgine wished she’d made Blair come in on her own. Melanie was good-hearted but also uncomfortably inquisitive and red eyes would instantly attract her attention. ‘Nothing,’ Georgine said defensively.

‘We need wine!’ Blair declared dramatically. ‘What’s on promo?’

With a last look at Georgine, Melanie allowed herself to be drawn into a conversation about merlot and Chianti while Georgine pretended to be fascinated by the display of tinned goods near the door. Blair chose the Chianti and paid.

Georgine called, ‘Bye, Melanie!’ and turned for the door.

‘I’ve won a cake,’ Melanie called out, halting her.

When Georgine reluctantly turned back she saw Melanie was holding out an orange raffle ticket, her expression sympathetic. ‘Here,’ Melanie said gruffly. ‘I won it in one of Carola’s everlasting raffles and I’m doing Slimming World so you’d better eat it instead of me. You need to take this to the Angel Community Café. If you go now you might get them before they close.’

Warmth washed through Georgine. She’d known Melanie for over five years and was well aware how much she loved her cake. ‘That’s so nice of you—’

‘Just grab it before she changes her mind,’ Blair joked, twitching the ticket from Melanie’s fingers. ‘Thanks, Mel. You’re a sweetie. C’mon, sis.’

Heart soothed by this gesture from such an unexpected quarter, Georgine followed Blair back to the Angel, pushing open the door to find blonde Carola who ran the café busy mopping the floor.

‘Sorry, ladies, I’m shutting up.’ Carola dipped the mop in the bucket and worked a noisy lever with her foot to squeeze the excess water out.

Blair brandished the raffle ticket and, with a keen glance at Georgine, who, despite her experiences at Booze & News, had been too cold to wait outside, Carola went off to the fridge to fetch a boxed cake.

‘Chocolate and pear gateau,’ she announced. ‘I’ll sell you tickets for the Christmas hamper raffle another time. Have a happy evening.’

They stepped back into the dark evening again, Blair carefully bearing the cake box. ‘I must look pathetic,’ Georgine sighed. ‘Melanie gave up cake for me and Carola let me get away without buying a raffle ticket.’

Blair shifted the box so she could give Georgine a one-armed hug as they stepped back into the playing fields. ‘It’s the village. They take care of their own.’

Once home, they dined on Chianti and large slices of gateau. Blair became quieter and quieter. A frown lodged itself on her brow and stayed there.

After a while, Georgine ventured: ‘Is something wrong?’

Blair’s forehead smoothed straight away. ‘Should there be?’ But then, while Georgine was clearing up, she announced abruptly, ‘Just popping to the bathroom,’ and quit the little kitchen.

The sound of Blair’s footsteps diminished as she walked up the stairs. Georgine, wiping surfaces, kept one ear on the sounds from overhead. Blair seemed to be meandering about. Maybe she was peering out of each window, worried about lurking debt collection agents.

Georgine sighed. She hoped she hadn’t put the wind up Blair so much that now her sister was feeling anxious.

Blair reappeared eventually, frowning heavily and looking pale, though she managed to smile at the storyboards Georgine had just pulled out of her backpack. ‘I can imagine all those funky students plastered in sequins and glitter for a Christmas show.’

Attuned to Blair’s moods and reading the signs of misery in her dark eyes, Georgine put down the board she’d been considering. ‘What’s the matter?’

Blair made an attempt at a carefree smile. ‘What do you mean?’ Then abruptly clamped a hand over her eyes. ‘Oh, shit,’ she breathed, her voice squeaking in her throat.

Alarmed, Georgine guided her sister to one of the dining chairs. ‘So something is wrong,’ she exclaimed.

Blair allowed her head to drop onto Georgine’s shoulder. ‘I wish I didn’t have to tell you this right now. I’ve been racking my brains for alternatives but I’ve come up empty.’ She heaved a sigh that stirred the ends of Georgine’s hair, and Georgine’s heart fluttered unpleasantly, all kinds of unwelcome scenarios of illness flashing through her imagination.

‘Please tell me,’ she breathed.

Blair groaned. Then she sat up straight with the air of one who was pulling herself together, though her eyes still brimmed. ‘It’s over between Warren and me. We’ve had a humongous row and he told me to leave.’

Georgine stared, searching her sister’s tear-streaked face. ‘No! He adores you. His eyes follow you round like a spaniel—’

Blair scrubbed her cheeks with her palms. ‘Not any more. He’s tired of what he calls my “money-pit ways”. We’ve been having problems. You’ve had enough to worry about so I haven’t let on, but it’s all been building and –’ her voice began to wobble ‘– last night he told me he was throwing me out of the last chance saloon. I took today off work to pack my things.’

‘But surely …’ Georgine broke off, unable to categorically deny that Blair was bad with money. She threw it at anything that took her fancy. Automatically stroking her sister’s hand, Georgine thought of the mini-break she and Blair had shared in October half-term – Warren hadn’t been able to take the time off work so Blair had invited Georgine to the smart barn conversion in the country in his stead. They’d each had a king-sized bedroom and sumptuous en-suite, and it had still left a bedroom empty. Georgine had thought at the time that it was pretty extravagant for two people.

Since then, she’d been sucked into the whirl of putting on the Christmas show, more concerned with how to evoke Christmas with a black curtain and a twist of tinsel than how things were going in her sister’s life. ‘Oh, Blair,’ she breathed remorsefully. ‘I didn’t realise.’ She blinked hard.

Blair’s attempt to laugh caught and broke. ‘All we’ve done tonight is say “oh, Blair” or “oh, Georgine”. What a pair.’ She found a tissue in her pocket and blew her nose, then tossed back her hair. ‘You won’t believe this but I came here to ask you to put me up until I sorted myself out. What timing, eh? Just what you don’t need.’ She propped her elbow on the table dispiritedly.

Georgine gazed at her sister, having an idea of what was coming next and knowing she’d be incapable of refusing.

‘Unless …’ Blair went on tentatively. ‘Unless it’s actually exactly what you do need? What if I did move in here? A rent-paying lodger would help you out too. You’d be able to have the heating on and catch up the arrears on the utilities much sooner.’

Georgine tried to compose her features into an expression of neutrality, but it was hard to fall on the suggestion with a cry of joy. ‘Are you sure you’d really like it, Blair? My second bedroom is tiny. Teeny-tiny.’ The sound of Blair’s footsteps tracking restlessly from room to room upstairs made sense now. She must have been assessing the space, trying to envisage herself moving from Warren’s spacious four-bedroomed house in Peterborough to a small share of Georgine’s bijou abode. That she even saw it as an option spoke volumes for her situation.

Blair must be desperate.

‘Of course, it goes without saying that you can stay,’ Georgine said quickly. ‘It’s just that you’d have to be tidy because the house is so small that you can’t move if you just dump stuff all over the place. It’s a far cry from Warren’s big, bay-fronted detached.’

Blair made a face. ‘You make it sound like a palace.’

‘It might be, compared to this,’ Georgine pointed out. ‘Big rooms, high ceilings, an attic conversion.’ Mostly full of the detritus of either Warren’s life or Blair’s.

Blair inspected her nail varnish, lower lip jutting. ‘That attic conversion was tiny really.’

‘But bigger than I could offer you here.’ Georgine tried a joke. ‘The box you keep your Christmas decorations in is probably bigger than my spare room.’ Then, gently, Georgine reached out and stroked Blair’s shining hair. ‘You’re welcome to come. It’s just that you’ll have to be really, really realistic about two things.’

Tipping her head back, Blair closed her eyes with a mock groan. ‘Don’t come all big sister on me!’

Georgine pressed on remorselessly. ‘You do have to pay rent, I can’t afford to feed you or face an increase in household bills. And you’d have to respect my space.’

‘Because you freak if there’s a thing out of place.’ Blair sighed.

It seemed an unnecessarily harsh description, but Georgine accepted that her sister was emotional and anxious. ‘I don’t like to live in chaos, that’s true.’ Whereas Blair, smiling and sunny, expansive and generous, lived as if she truly didn’t notice when she put something down and never touched it again. Magazines, make-up, shoes, clothes seemed to whirl into new and unexpected resting places in her wake. Doors and drawers opened themselves and never shut. A mountain of unwashed dishes had usually ornamented the worktop in the vague vicinity of Warren’s dishwasher – and there was no such thing as a dishwasher at Georgine’s.

Blair blew out her cheeks and gazed at the ceiling as if looking for inspiration there. ‘I can’t move in with Dad.’

‘No. You’d affect his benefits,’ Georgine agreed, which happened to be true. More importantly, she’d give her own room up to Blair rather than let her burst in and disrupt their dad’s already difficult existence.

‘It’s not fair on him since he had his stroke,’ Blair insisted, as if Georgine had disagreed with her. ‘He needs his space and his routine.’ She paused and sighed, her eyes once again bright with tears. ‘I hate to see him living on sickness benefits but he’s never going to be able to work himself into a better income bracket now, is he?’

Guilt and regret lurched into Georgine’s gut. ‘No.’

Blair’s gaze flew to Georgine’s face. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound … It’s just that he used to be so different. We all were.’

‘It’s OK.’ Georgine didn’t need to be told everything her sister wasn’t saying about the spacious home Randall France once provided for his family via Randall France Construction. She also had vivid memories of fab holidays in Malta and Italy, the indulgent Christmases that had seemed to begin weeks in advance of December the 25th, sometimes involving extended trips to America to visit their grandparents, Earl and Patty, when relatives both close and distant had crowded in to join the fun.

Randall France had been so vital then, pushing his business to new heights through hard work, vision and ambition – though a little caution and consolidation wouldn’t have gone amiss, it later turned out when Georgine had been nineteen and Blair nearly seventeen.

‘Maybe I should give Mum a call and ask to move in with them,’ Blair mused caustically. ‘Good old Terrence might give me money to go away.’

Glad of this small break in the tension, Georgine rolled her eyes. ‘And you think I’m a neat freak? Compared to Terrence I’m a slattern.’ She suppressed a sigh as she got up, knowing herself to be the best option for her sister, at least for a month or two. Though Blair was too nice to actually say ‘you owe me’, Georgine did, in fact, owe her, so she’d shove aside her misgivings and welcome the additional income.

‘You can move in whatever you need to.’

Instantly, Blair’s dazzling smile flashed out as she leapt to her feet. ‘I’ll be a model lodger, I promise.’

‘I know. You might be right that this could work for both of us.’ Georgine accepted her sister’s effusive hug. Crossing her fingers behind Blair’s back, she wondered whether Blair was doing the same behind hers.