Lou, on the other hand, had been lucky in the great cosmic lottery. He had my edgy sense of humour, but everything else came from Rob. He was calm, diligent and kind – a carbon copy of his father.
Poor Lou got ignored for the best part of nine years, from about 2004 to 2015 – the downside to being normal and undemanding. Sure, we did our best to look like we were going through the motions: we remembered birthdays and Christmas; we celebrated good exam results, one after the other. But the truth was that Lucy consumed all the oxygen in the house and there was none left for anyone else.
Lou, bless him, thrived despite it all. He seemed to see his sister as a textbook case of everything he needed to avoid doing, being or thinking.
He told me, much much later, that she’d once tried to sell him drugs, offering him a pocket-money deal on E.
‘She said it felt really great,’ Lou told me. ‘She said I’d feel the best I’d ever felt.’
‘And how old were you, exactly, when this happened?’ I asked.
‘About twelve, I think,’ he said. ‘She was evil back then. I used to tell my mates she was possessed. She was like that kid inThe Exorcist.’
‘She wasexactlylike the kid inThe Exorcist,’ I said. ‘And you just said “no”, I take it?’
‘Yeah, you know me. I was polite,’ Lou explained. ‘Plus she was kind of scary. So I just said I didn’t really fancy it and thanked her for her kind offer.’
‘I can totally imagine you doing that,’ I told him.
‘Anyway, I was saving up for a Wii,’ Lou said. ‘There was no way I was giving her my pocket money.’
Lucy was hard work for the whole family, but she drove me to my absolute wits’ end. I cried over her so many times that I lost count.
Sometimes I’d go round to Mum’s and sit in her kitchen for half an hour crying into a mug of tea, even though Mum rarely had much advice to give.
‘I really don’t know, hon, cos I was lucky,’ she used to tell me. ‘You two weren’t like that at all. Neither of you was. You were proper little angels.’
‘Ididget pregnant at seventeen,’ I pointed out one time.
‘Yeah, well,’ Mum said. ‘People in glass houses… I mean, I was never likely to start chucking stones about that, was I?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I guess not.’
The only time Mum ever ventured parenting advice, it was because of something she’d seen on TV.
‘Look,’ she said one day, no doubt sick of listening to me complaining. ‘I don’t want to… you know… tread on anyone’s toes.’
‘OK,’ I said, intrigued. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, I was wondering, have you ever thought that maybe you’re too hard on her?’
‘Too hardon her?’ I said, frowning.
‘Yes,’ Mum said. ‘It’s just…’
‘Toohardon her?’ I repeated, my outrage building as I digested her words. ‘Have you actually been following any of this, Mum? Have you any idea what she’s putting us through?’
‘I know,’ Mum said. ‘It’s just… Hear me out, OK?’
I laughed sourly, then, after forcing a deep breath, I threw myself back in my chair and clapped my hands. ‘OK, go for it!’ I told her.
‘I saw a thing on telly,’ Mum said. ‘A shrink. On thatSupernannything. He was a sort of consultant. And it made me think about you. Well, about Lucy.’
‘Uh-huh?’ I rolled my eyes skywards.Supernanny!
‘He was…’ Mum shook her head. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m not criticising you or telling you what to do. I’m just discussing ideas. Youwereasking for ideas, weren’t you?’
‘OK,’ I said, steeling myself. ‘Whatever. Go on.’
