Orla nodded, knowing that, sadly, it was about as good as she was going to get.
2
‘How many calories are in a flat white again?’
‘Does coffee even have calories?’
That sentence earned Orla such a disparaging look from Erin it could probably have turned her to stone if she hadn’t looked away. She changed her focus to the twinkling lights making everything gleam with prestige at this uber-contemporary coffee shop where it seemed even the steam came out in elegant bursts, rather than something from Thomas the Tank Engine’s funnel.
‘I was being serious,’ Erin reiterated, her eyes now grazing the menu on her phone – no paper here, just a QR code to zap. ‘I’m trying to make sure I fit into the size eight dress I bought that won’t quite do up at the minute.’
‘Why didn’t you just buy a size ten?’ Orla asked.
‘Are you a hundred like Mum?’ Erin said accusingly. ‘Why would I do that when the other size almost fits and that’s the size Danica and Tania bought in colours that look aesthetic together?’
Orla had no answer. She had never thought the ten-year age gap between them was that much, but it seemed she had little idea how to converse with Erin and her generation withoutsounding like she was Mary Berry describing a thriving garden and pairing it with a festive trifle.
‘I’ll just have an Americano. And don’t get milk. Ooo… and I’ll have a triple chocolate muffin, ifyou’repaying.’
‘I’ll have the same,’ Orla said. ‘Do you want to order it on there and I’ll give you my card to pay and?—’
‘Done. I used your PayPal,’ Erin said, putting her phone on the table, screen down.
‘Oh,’ Orla answered. She was going to follow it up with asking if Erin used her PayPal account a lot, but challenging her sister never worked well if she wanted her to open up. And a text from their mother between the chocolate sweepstakes, reading Frances’s France email and buying some 100ml liquids in Superdrug had suggested that Erin was hiding something more than her appearances at Club Class and Orla had been tasked with trying to find out how deep she was in with a guy on Insta.
‘So, have you ordered the turkey yet?’ Erin asked, picking up her phone, looking at the screen, then putting it right back down again.
A chill ran down Orla’s spine. She wasn’t in charge of buying the Bradbee’s turkey. She had done it last year. This year it was Auntie Bren’s turn, wasn’t it?
Then Erin burst into fits of laughter. ‘Oh my God, your face! I thought you were gonna piss yourself. You haven’t, have you? ’Cos that’s what old people do. I loaned Auntie Bren my phone for ten minutes last Christmas and I was served ads for Tena Lady for weeks.’
It wasn’t funny. But it was presenting her with an opportunity to address the fact there was a chance she might not be back for the annual festive lunch, the Boxing Day Banana Bonanza and the New Year New Stew evening…
‘Actually,’ Orla began tentatively. ‘I’m probably not going to be at Christmas dinner this year.’
Erin laughed again. ‘Sorry, what? That’s better than any joke out of the Poundland crackers. Wait, that doesn’t make sense. They were shit.’
‘I mean it. I have to work.’
‘You’ve had to work before. One time you were actually working and Mum poured custard on your laptop.’
She sighed heavily. ‘I have to work away.’
‘You were working away hard when Mum poured custard on your laptop.’
‘I mean… I’m not going to be in the country.’
Now she watched her sister’s eyes light up like they could take centre stage in a festive display. ‘You’re leaving the country? Is it Dubai? Tell me it’s Dubai.’
‘It’s not Dubai.’
‘Where then? Bora Bora? Thailand at least?’
‘It’s France.’
‘Oh my God! Paris! Well, that’s it! I’m coming with you! I’ll need more clothes, acrylics and a Brazilian!’
‘Erin—’
