‘This isn’t a lecture, it’s your life, you can do exactly what you want to do with it.’
‘I didn’t ask you for lunch just to be told where I’m going wrong.’
‘We all go wrong,’ I say in exasperation, ‘every single one of us. Do you think I’m perfect?’
‘Yes,’ she says, pain evident in every angle of her face, ‘you have everything, you have Nate and he’s so handsome and attractive and you know other women love him and look at him. And then you have Rachel and Joey and you have your job and friends and everything. And what do I have?’
Inside, I feel a little nauseous. I have Nate, have I? I wish I knew if I did.
‘You have what any of us have,’ I say, ignoring the inner me. ‘We have ourselves and you keep giving yourself and your power away to men who are not worthy of you.’
The anger fades from her face. She still looks beautiful and I wonder idly what it must be like to have that power and still for it not to bring happiness.
I’d always wanted to look like April when I was younger.Once she’d conquered thepuppy-fat stage, she was so sexy and glamorous, capable of making men watch her as she walked past. People didn’t watch me as I walked past and yet my life had worked out better. I had my children, my work, I had Nate ... it kept coming back to Nate. Was he my sum total?
‘I don’t feel like I have any power,’ she says, ‘I just wanted someone to take care of me. Do you know, I never pursued any of the married men I’ve been with?’
I stop drinking my tea and shake my head. There’s nothing predatory about April – she is no femme fatale. I always knew this and yet I never fully put it into thoughts.
‘They asked me out and I –’ she pauses – ‘I never asked them to leave any woman for me. I never said: “leave her and live with me”. Not once, never. I didn’t think I was worth it. I’ve never thought I was worth it. I thought I was lucky to get just a piece of pure love. If life was different, then maybe these men would have met me first and I’d be married to them. But it didn’t work that way because I am unlovable. I need to see myself reflected in their eyes because they love me – for a while, anyway.’
‘April, that’s not true,’ I say kindly. ‘I love you, my children do, Dom does, Dad adores you.’ I leave Ma out, another irredeemably sad omission.
‘Thanks, sis.’
‘You really never asked Jared to leave?’ I am truly astonished.
She shakes her head. ‘He kept saying he couldn’t live without me and I believed him. He hurt me more than anyone else because I thought he loved me but he said –’ she’s crying now – ‘he said I’d be fine on my own and he didn’t want to regret leaving and he would: regret it.’
Regret leaving that lovely big house, more like.
‘Oh April,’ I say.
At this point, big tears began to slide down my sister’s perfect face.
‘Oh darling, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ I shove the chocolate muffin over to her side and she begins to eat it mechanically.
I can almost see her thought processes because I understand them:I’m going to eat this because it’s bad for me and it will stop me being beautiful, and then men will have more reasons not to want to be with me.
I thought of all the ways April had learned to dislike herself. Our home had never been an easy one in which to grow up. Dominic had stayed an eternal teenager because it was the only way he could cope with our family’s dysfunction. As for me, I’d read the mood of the family and tried to keep the peace, and Dad had hidden in his allotment. Finally, April had retreated into the fantasy world of the princess being rescued by the prince. And the princess must be thin, of course, because that was what fashion dictated. Princesses did not wear asize-fourteen dress, therefore neither would April. It was all cruel, wrong and ultimately destructive.
‘I just want what you have,’ April says, between mouthfuls of chocolate muffin, ‘just happiness, someone to come home to, someone who can cook dinner.’
‘Nate can’t cook dinner,’ I say, ‘he’s useless at it – in fact, I think he’s getting worse. Once upon a time he’d heat up some soup or something, but now he comes home and he’s exhausted, between the gym and work.’
The gym – that’s a sign, isn’t it? Men who have affairs are always going to the gym. But then, Finn, Steve and he have always swum and gone to the gym.
‘But men are different,’ says April, as if this isself-explanatory. ‘We’re supposed to look after them.’
‘No, we’re not, we’re equal.’
‘Ha! If we were equal, men would be buying lipsticks andsuck-it-all-in knickers and having their legs shaved. So it’s not equal at all. We’re supposed to make ourselves desirable for them. And not earn too much or be too successful. I just want someone to take care of me the way Nate takes care of you.’
‘He doesn’t take care of me,’ I say a little dully, because as I say it, I realise he doesn’t. If anything, I take care of him. And look where it’s got us now – me wondering if he’s being faithful, too scared to ask in case I find out.
‘Marriage is never what it looks like, April,’ I say, ‘it’s hard, you get annoyed with the other person. But you stick it out.’
‘I made a New Year’s resolution.’ She laughs and there’s no humour in her voice. ‘I’m going to give up men for six months, totally. I’m not even going to speak to a man unless he’s someone I work with. Don’t tell me that I need friends and that if you have lots of friends, then you will find someone to date, because it doesn’t work that way. I’m nearlyforty-six, no matter how good I look, I’m still nearlyforty-six. Men want a younger model.’
