Ella Harper - Pieces of You.

‘So, what’s new with you?’

‘Me? Not much. You know my life is dull. Do you have any news?’

Lucy shook her head, casting her eyes down. ‘Not really. Obviously I got married five years ago today, but apart from that … nothing much to report, I’m afraid.’

Nell considered her sister-in-law. There was something different about her. She was wearing a new top, a floaty, floral effort, which wasn’t her usual taste, but it wasn’t just the clothes. Lucy had a great figure for fashion – slim, not remotely busty, slight hips – but actually, there seemed to be a fairly substantial bust there today. And the hips … Were they a little fuller? It was possible Lucy had put on a few pounds since they’d last had a proper chat, but Nell decided it suited her, career as a fashion model notwithstanding.

‘Would you like some?’ Nell gestured to the coconut water.

‘Ummmm, no thank you.’ Lucy pushed it away. ‘It smells gross.’

‘It doesn’t taste much better than it smells,’ Nell said, sipping it and gagging. ‘All the rage, but like many fashions, style over substance.’ She dumped it in the bin, noticing Lucy’s expression flicker. Was something wrong? Nell felt anxious, but as Lucy’s features settled, she relaxed again.

‘Patricia was popular at the barbecue yesterday,’ Lucy commented. ‘Chatted up by all sorts of … by all sorts.’

‘Yes, but she wasn’t having any of it. I don’t think she can see herself with anyone but dad. I don’t want her to replace him or anything either, but it would be nice to see her happy again.’ Nell pulled a face. ‘Not sure she gives off the right vibes though … she’s a bit …’

‘Detached?’ Lucy offered.

Nell shrugged. ‘I guess so. Yes.’

Lucy nodded distractedly. ‘It must be hard for her. I’ve only been married for five years, not the thirty – thirty three?’ She glanced at Nell who gave a nod of agreement. ‘And I can’t imagine being with anyone else but Luke. And I’m not just saying that because you’re his sister.’

Nell smiled and chewed a stubby fingernail. She didn’t know much about marriage, or relationships for that matter. She’d had a few boyfriends on and off since she was fifteen, but nothing serious. Not until now.

She was desperate to confide in someone and Lucy was here, now. Nell faltered. But maybe Luke was a better person to talk to about this. A man’s perspective. She could guess what the woman’s perspective would be. Actually, Nell mused, did she want to confess this particular deed to anyone at all? She already felt ashamed of herself and she wasn’t sure she could handle more judgement.

Hearing Luke returning from his run, Nell edged herself off the bar stool. ‘This has been lovely, but I’d better be off. I’ve got an evil new lecturer who thinks I need to work on my fashion portfolio, even though I’ve only been back at college for a few weeks.’

Nell suddenly noticed how pale Lucy looked and her brain kicked in. Swollen boobs, slightly fuller in the face, flinching at pungent smells. Of course .

‘That is evil,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Poor you.’ She stood up but remained behind the counter. ‘Thanks for the meringue advice.’

‘Any time. Thanks for the chat.’ Nell walked around the counter and pulled Lucy into a warm hug. Yes, she was definitely right about her sister-in-law. That was a firm, pregnant stomach, all right. Nell felt a shiver of apprehension. This time. Let it happen for them this time.

‘You’re not leaving?’ Luke strolled in wearing shorts and a damp-looking T-shirt. ‘I’ve got to do an extra shift this afternoon, but you can stay for a bit, can’t you?’ He sniffed an armpit. ‘Do I smell that bad?’

‘Your feet do,’ Lucy said, pulling a face.

‘I have to do some work. Yuk … how do you put up with him, Luce?’ Nell danced out of the way of his sweaty embrace and headed down the hallway.

‘You dropped this.’ Turning, she found Luke holding out a piece of paper.

She took it, feeling idiotic. ‘You didn’t—’

‘Of course I didn’t read it, Nell.’ Luke’s eyes assessed her. He was concerned, not judgemental. ‘You still do that?’

Nell gave an off-hand shrug. ‘Only now and again. That’s an old one. I – I only do it when I feel a bit, you know … anxious.’

Luke nodded, seeming to accept what she said. ‘Makes sense.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘But you know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? Anything at all?’

‘Yes. I do. And thank you. Don’t worry about me, Luke; I’m fine. Enjoy your anniversary dinner, won’t you? Even the cow pats.’

Leaving him to ponder that gem, Nell closed the door and leant against it. Why hadn’t she said anything to Luke? He had given her the perfect opportunity to open up about it and she had chickened out. Maybe it was okay to have a secret. Like them with their baby, maybe it was okay for her to keep this to herself.

Sitting in her bedroom later that afternoon, her portfolio open and untouched on the desk in front of her, Nell fidgeted. The vintage dressmaker’s dummy she’d found in the shop in Camden – the delivery had cost more than the purchase price – stood regally next to her desk, wearing a half-finished pinafore. Nell wished she hadn’t decided to add patch pockets; they were a nightmare to sew and she kept putting it off.

Sorting through some swatches of material, Nell tried to concentrate. Aside from the whirl of feelings that seemed to be paralysing her, her focus kept being splintered by crashing noises downstairs. Her mother, sorting through her cake tins, presumably to find the perfect size for whatever she was planning to create next. She sounded as though she was auditioning for Stomp .

Perhaps baking was like taking drugs for some people? Perhaps it dulled the pain the way alcohol or cocaine did? Nell couldn’t remember her mother baking as much as this when her father had still been around, but maybe she was mistaken. God, she needed her own place. She started as she heard a knock on the door. Luke appeared.

‘Hey. What are you doing here? I only saw you earlier on …’ Nell half stood up.

‘I was worried about you. Sit down, sit down.’ Luke came in and closed the door pointedly. ‘I’m on my way to my shift but I wanted to come and see you.’

Nell was touched. ‘That’s really nice of you.’ She sat down and gestured to the bed. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you a spot on the sofa in my new pad,’ she added wryly. ‘The bed is the best I can do.’

‘Still gagging to get your own place, then.’ Luke threw himself carelessly on the bed, the way only a brother would.

‘Is it that obvious?’

Nell smiled at the sight of Luke sprawled across the bed. It reminded her of the old days when they used to talk into the early hours of the morning before their mum stomped down the landing and scolded them.

‘Yeah, it is. And I don’t blame you. There’s nothing like having your own flat or whatever, but it will happen, Nell. These things take time and you’re only young.’ Luke changed tack and cut to the chase, as was his way. ‘So. The letters to dad. I know you said that was an old one I picked up earlier, but was it?’ His tone was gentle. ‘I don’t mean to pry. I just want to know that everything is all right with you. I mean, I know why you started writing those letters to dad in the first place.’ Luke’s eyes dropped to Nell’s wrists.

It was involuntary, but Nell found herself rubbing her left wrist. The right wrist bore matching scars but the left was far more deeply scored. She was right-handed; it made sense. The skin felt gnarly beneath her fingertips, a stark reminder of her past. The old feelings came rushing back. Her mouth suddenly felt parched. That inner panic, the feelings of appalling fear and apprehension were swirling in her stomach, gathering momentum. She fought them, hard. It took a minute or so, but she finally gained control again.