Lydia’s crutches didn’t snag on the rug. Whenever she’d roll the rug away to avoid exactly that scenario, Lydia always found it and brought it back out again. While she preferred being prosthetic free around the house to give her stump a break from the sweat and any chafing, Lydia was adamant she didn’t want things changed to accommodate the crutches. Jen considered this to be asking for trouble.
Normally Lydia would take up residence on the larger of the two worn blue sofas, spreading out and massaging her scar as she watched TV. Tonight though, she nodded brusquely for Jen to take a seat, while she propped herself against the wall, crutches hanging from her forearms as she crossed them angrily in front of her. With the sticks angled askew, the overall effect was a pretty hostile.
Lydia took a deep huffy breath and composed herself. “Jen, I love you and I want you to be happy, honestly I do, but this is an epic mistake. I’m sure Robert’s a good enough guy, but Jen, really? He’s SO dull. You deserve someone who can bring excitement to your life. God, you deserve someone who can just bring you back to life full stop.”
Jen was instantly offended. “My life is just fine, thank you.” She had everything she needed. Plus Robert had just offered her a whole lot more. “And Robert’s not dull, for your information. Aside from all the legal stories he has, he has a healthy, busy social life. He’s sporty, he runs every day. He plays his golf, he’s on the club committee. There’s cricket too. He takes me out. How is that dull? Just because those things aren’t your cup of tea, Lydia, doesn’t mean you can condemn them as boring and somehow beneath me.” Lydia made a face. Ha! Jen knew she’d scored a point.
But Lydia wasn’t stopped so easily. “But apart from your regimented date nights, none of Robert’s activities include you.”
“Why should they? It’s good if couples have their own interests. Mum wasn’t interested in Dad’s motorbike meets, was she?” Lydia faltered for a second, but rallied quickly.
“They did lots of other things together. Raising us, obviously, but they also enjoyed each other’s company; they went walking, they sat for hours on the sofa together just chatting. Remember that time he lost a bet to her and had to see a film of her choice every fortnight for a year? He saw every chick-flick going. They did fun stuff just to be together. They went dancing, Jen. Can you remember how unconvinced he was, but he tried it and they had a hoot.” Tears were forming in Lydia’s eyes. Jen’s own eyes were beginning to sting at the memories. Their parents had been eccentric, in Jen’s opinion. Lydia took another breath and went on, “When did you and Robert last have a hoot? Ever have a hoot? I’ve never seen it. I don’t think you’re compatible, Jen. I honestly don’t. Not the real you.”
Well, Jen had no idea what that was supposed to mean. She was the real her. Who else would she be? This was feeling like an attack now and she wasn’t going to take it. “Robert and I are totally compatible. We have the same values and outlook on things. We want the same kind of life. It might not be as adventurous as some, but adventure isn’t for everyone. Some people, like he and I, enjoy simplicity, creature comforts and a straightforward life. And there is nothing wrong with that Lydia. You should stop judging things by your standards.”
Lydia banged the heel of her palm against her forehead with a frustrated Aargh. Closing her eyes she took a moment to recompose herself and regroup her argument.
“Mum once said to me that ‘sex and laughter are the heart and lungs of a marriage’, Jen. Did she ever say that to you? I’d overhead the two of them going at it and had complained about it being gross for old people. She’d pilfered it out of one of her novels I think, but it meant something to her. ‘Communication’, she said too, ‘is the air a marriage breathes’.” As Lydia spoke their mother’s words, Jen couldn’t help but think how much she looked like her, with the same big eyes and light freckles. Granted, they both took after her, but Lydia’s expressions were closer to their mother’s where Jen was more a daddy’s girl in mannerisms. It made her ache. “And I look at you and Robert,” Lydia continued, “and I can’t see the laughter and I wonder about your communication, because it always sounds like small talk or business conversation to me. God knows about the sex.”
“There is nothing wrong with my sex life, thank you Lydia,” Jen growled, getting het up now. “I’ve stayed at Robert’s most Wednesday and Sunday nights since you were eighteen, so you can back right off there.” Just because Lydia was busier with her body, it didn’t lessen what she and Robert had.
“Let me ask you this then, Jen. Where is he now?” Lydia’s expression was rather smug. Jen felt she was walking into some trap.
“He went home, Lydia.” There was no mystery there. He’d said I’ll be off then; early one tomorrow. Goodnight ladies. And then he’d kissed her and whispered Sleep well Nearly-Mrs Thwaites.
“Precisely!” Lydia was triumphant, but Jen was mystified. “He got engaged tonight, Jen. To you. Why aren’t you upstairs ravishing each other, swinging off the rafters in celebration?”
“He has an early start tomorrow!” Jen’s voice had raised now in exasperation. Lydia clearly had little concept of professional behaviour. And besides, on date nights they always stayed at his out of consideration to Lydia and the fact that Jen’s bed had been her parents’ bed.
“He shouldn’t care!” Lydia shouted right back. There was a sudden banging on the wall from the adjacent house. Considering how deaf the oldies next door insisted they were, they had no problem complaining when the sisters’ bickering interrupted their telly viewing. “I’m not talking about your shared values and mutual respect, Jen, I’m talking about the fact he shouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. There’s no spark between you, Jen.”
Jen didn’t know what to say to that, not without over-sharing; her and Robert’s nights together could be frisky enough. They had a selection of positions. She tried to curb the conversation.
“You’re wrong about that. We are compatible outdoors and in. We aren’t boring. You make it sound like the two are one-in-the-same and they’re not. The whole ‘sparks’ thing is a nonsense, like relationships are somehow lesser if people aren’t pawing all over each other in public. Ever considered that sparks and fire are generally – actually universally – considered dangerous?” There, thought Jen, bet she hadn’t thought of that.
Lydia shook her head.
“You’re right Jen, compatible doesn’t need to mean boring, but you’re wrong about relationships not needing sparks. Something has to ignite it. And here’s the thing you’ve lost sight of; not all fires are bad. Fire’s been used for some pretty good stuff through the ages. Warmth for a start. I don’t see a lot of that with you and Robert.” Lydia was shaking her head now, sad. “You used to be fun, Jen. I get why you lost it, but I thought if you met the right person you’d get it back. Robert doesn’t do that for you.”
Enough! Jen’s temper was piqued. She was not being pitied by her little sister. She’d just been proposed to. She was supposed to be revelling blissfully in it like a pig in poo, but here was Lydia peeing all over it, instead. Suddenly Jen worked out why.
“This is about you, isn’t it? You think you’ll be left all alone.”
“What?” Jen was sure she was right, but had to admit Lydia was good at looking shocked at the suggestion. It didn’t stop her though.
“You might think I’m not fun, but this is what growing up looks like, Lydia. You’ll see that over the next few years. There’s work and responsibilities and all the frivolous stuff falls away and that’s natural. And all the silly dreams we have need to be shelved in the cool light of day. That’s reality. Life moves on. It’s called being an adult.” She knew it would wind Lydia up, but it was true, so she ignored the way her sister’s eyes suddenly hardened and her face grew puce. “Mum and Dad knew Robert and they liked him. Dad said he was a ‘decent guy’, Lydia, and that speaks volumes in my opinion. Robert is an open book; no hidden shockers there and that does it for me. That is the spark for me, if you really