Private Lives

22



According to the latest issue of Vogue, Danehill Park was the most exclusive day spa in the country. Set in a hundred acres of Surrey parkland, the grand stately home had been converted into a beautifully furnished hotel for mini-breaking couples and savvy tourists looking for a taste of rural England without the inconvenience of the mud and the creaky floors.

Anna settled back on to her poolside sunlounger and sighed. She’d booked the day trip to the spa as a present for her mother, but she couldn’t deny she was enjoying it too. The spa was a modern addition in a glass and steel extension at the back of the house, built around a mint-green kidney-shaped swimming pool; with the gentle pan-pipe music and the aromatherapy, it was hard to do anything except just lie back and feel your stress float away.

She glanced over at her mother, lying next to her in a towelling robe, a lavender sleep mask over her eyes. According to her father, Sue Kennedy had been working herself into the ground revamping and extending the Dorset Nurseries’s dining room while also running the gardening business. ‘She needs a break, hon,’ he had told Anna on the phone. ‘If she doesn’t slow down, she’s going to blow a gasket.’

‘This is wonderful, isn’t it?’ said Sue, lifting one corner of her eye mask and peering at her daughter.

‘It was such a good idea of Dad’s.’

When she had booked the trip, Anna had taken on board her father’s concerns, but she was grateful for the quality time alone with her mother. They had always had an uneasy relationship. Even when the girls had been small, Sue Kennedy had seemed to dote on the prettier, girlie Sophie, who shared her feminine wiles and breezy popularity. She had never seemed to understand her older daughter’s efficient bookishness, used to tease her for preferring to take long walks across the fields and hills with her father than spend time indoors braiding hair with Sophie or playing with make-up. But recently Anna could sense her mother drifting away from her in a vapour trail of disappointment and frustration. She had got used to not having Sophie in her life, but to add her mother to the mix would be unthinkable. She was determined to stop the rot in their relationship and knew that this day out was as good a place as any to start.

‘How about lunch?’ she said, uncurling herself from the lounger.

Sue glanced at her dainty gold watch.

‘Not yet, darling. I wish you would just relax.’

Anna chuckled. ‘You’re right. We’ve got a big libel trial starting tomorrow, so I should chill out before the fun starts.’

‘You mean fun as well, don’t you,’ Sue said, teasing her.

‘Honestly, it is quite exciting.’

It was Sue’s turn to laugh. ‘You always found the funniest things to get excited about. Those books about Mount Everest you used to love. You were always so enquiring. It’s probably why you turned out so clever, so successful.’

Anna realised that this was the nearest thing she’d had to a compliment in a long time. Then again, Sue had been good-humoured, less snipey all morning, and hadn’t even mentioned Sophie or the wedding once.

‘Come on then. Let’s go and try out this restaurant.’

‘I hope you’re not going to complain about the food.’ Anna grinned.

‘Of course I’m going to complain, darling,’ said Sue, knotting her robe tighter and slipping on her white slippers. ‘It’s just professional interest.’

The restaurant was beautiful. The interior was all scrubbed pine and stiff linen, just the right balance between formality and casual; you felt you were in a sophisticated restaurant, but it didn’t seem weird to be wearing a fluffy robe. The double doors were open, leading on to an outdoor seating area around a small pond that shimmered invitingly in the heat.

‘Let’s eat outside,’ suggested Anna, feeling lifted by the warm, scented breeze drifting into the restaurant and realising this was the nicest day out she had had in ages.

She snaked through the wrought-iron chairs and then stopped dead as she saw a familiar figure seated under a parasol. Sophie was reading a magazine. She was dressed casually in leggings and a T-shirt, her hair all piled up like some nymph emerging from a grotto.

‘I don’t believe it . . .’ Words seemed unable to form in Anna’s throat.

Sue looked at her wearily. ‘I couldn’t let it go on, Anna. It’s so silly. At least speak to her.’

Sophie looked up, her expression papered with the same wide-eyed anxiousness she’d had as a child when she knew she was about to be in trouble.

Anna couldn’t stop staring at her. Of course she’d tuned into her sister’s TV show, more often than she’d liked. Sophie was a culinary Jessica Rabbit, all seductive curves and painted face, the perfect wife who could whip you up a luscious pie then take you to bed for an hour of mind-melting sex. That was how she remembered her sister in the flesh, too. A lusty temptress.

But the woman in front of her was slimmer, softer, less dangerous. Thin arms poked out under her black T-shirt; her face, leaner thanks to pounds lost for the television and her wedding, looked different, yet familiar. Her sister looked just like a slimmer version of herself.

‘Go on,’ hissed Sue.

Anna resisted her mother’s forceful hand against her back, then put one foot in front of the other and moved slowly towards Sophie’s table.

‘Hello,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It’s been a while.’

For a second she remembered the same words that were spoken almost four years earlier. She could see quite clearly the night Sophie had turned up at her flat, suitcase in hand, looking for a place to stay, having just washed back up from three years of travelling, with a sprinkling of tattoos, an empty bank balance and a vague ambition to get into telly.

Anna had been glad to have her sister back. Glad to have someone to laugh with, cook with, go out drinking with. They’d shared their love dilemmas: Anna’s frustration with Andrew, Sophie’s complaints about the lack of decent men in London. And after three months of Sophie’s unsuccessful attempts to find work, Anna had pleaded with Andrew to give her a job at the newspaper, where he was on the fast track to editorship. He’d delivered: an assistant’s job in the features department, which had turned into a food column when Sophie had charmed the editor and regaled him with stories about the Dorset Nurseries.

The rest was a history Anna had tried hard to forget.

A waiter had begun fussing around them, offering bread, hummus dips and sparkling water.

‘Have you had any spa treatments yet?’ asked Sophie finally. ‘I believe they’re heavenly.’

The benefits of the relaxing floral facial Anna had had an hour earlier seemed difficult to recall.

‘It’s a lovely place,’ she replied coldly.

‘How was the journey over?’ asked Sue, trying to fill the silence.

‘A bit of a rush.’

‘Sophie’s been filming the new show,’ said Sue proudly. ‘We’ll never be able to cope with the demand when it’s on in the autumn.’

Anna watched her mother beam at Sophie. Sue Kennedy never stopped mentioning how grateful she and her husband were to their younger daughter for driving business to the Dorset Nurseries. Anna tried not to feel too resentful that no one ever mentioned that it was her idea in the first place to transform the disused conservatory into a restaurant, or that she had spent many hours compiling her parents’ business plan and helping them get the finance to do it. But it was hard not to feel slighted.

‘So have you looked at the menu?’ she asked.

‘What do you recommend, Sophie?’ asked Sue.

Anna almost smiled. Everyone in Sophie’s inner circle knew that the delicious recipes in the best-selling Dorset Kitchen Cookbook and on the show were Brian Kennedy’s creations rather than Sophie’s, but even her parents went along with the little white lie.

‘Oh, um, probably the field mushrooms,’ she said, picking up the stiff card. ‘Or the sea bass with fennel.’

‘I’ll have the risotto, then the sticky toffee pudding,’ said Anna.

‘Gosh, I wish I could eat all that,’ said Sophie. ‘If I so much look at a dessert, it jumps straight to my hips.’

‘Sophie’s already lost eight pounds in the last month,’ said Sue. ‘For the wedding.’

‘And she looks great,’ said Anna politely.

Her gaze met Sophie’s and they exchanged a look: rolling eyes, raised eyebrows, a look that said, ‘Mum’s put her foot in it again.’ It was a familiar look, a code from their childhood, just one of many secrets they’d shared growing up in the same room, and it made Anna suddenly terribly sad. Her anger had passed. But it was regret now that nearly took her breath away. Regret that every happy memory of childhood – singing along to cheesy pop on their bedroom stereo, birthday parties, trips to the movies – now seemed tainted. Regret that the whole sorry episode of Sophie and Andrew’s betrayal had changed her; she didn’t want to be a cold, bitter and lonely person, but she knew that it was the reason she hadn’t had a relationship since. She felt herself getting emotional. She didn’t want her mother or sister to see that.

The waiter was approaching again. Anna took a deep breath.

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said, getting up. ‘I can’t do this right now. I need to get back.’

Sue Kennedy looked incredulous. ‘But we haven’t even ordered yet.’

‘I’m not that hungry,’ said Anna, pushing her chair in. ‘You two enjoy yourselves.’

She turned and walked out, squeezing her nails into her palm, desperate not to cry. She returned to the pool area as fast as her spa slippers would allow, needing to grab her book and trainers from where she’d left them. And then she could get the hell out of there.

She was just gathering her things when Sophie came up behind her, looking upset and concerned.

‘Anna, please wait. Can’t we just talk?’

‘About what?’ she said simply.

‘I know how hurt and angry you must have been . . .’

Anna closed her eyes and the whole horrific scene leapt towards her, as if she was seeing a slideshow of images. The key turning in the lock as she let herself into the flat. Glancing at the stereo on the sideboard, wondering why Coldplay was playing so loud. Walking through to the bedroom and bending to pick up Andy’s shirt that he had dropped in the corridor. And then opening the bedroom door. Legs entwined on the bed. Sophie’s face, her eyes wide. Andrew chasing Anna down the stairs on to the street. ‘It didn’t mean anything,’ that was what he had said. But it had. It had meant everything.

‘No you don’t,’ she said quietly. ‘These things don’t happen to you, Sophie. You can’t possibly know how it feels to have your heart stamped on, to feel so betrayed that you don’t know if you will ever really trust anyone again.’

Someone at the far side of the pool looked up from their daybed.

‘I’m sorry that we hurt you, Anna, but we fell in love,’ Sophie said, lowering her voice to avoid a scene. ‘And ask yourself this: did you really love Andy? I’m not sure, because if you did you wouldn’t have put your career above him.’

‘Don’t try and make out that this is my fault.’

‘I miss you, Anna.’ For a moment her words sounded heartfelt. ‘I miss you and I can understand why you don’t want to come to the wedding, but please, at least come to my hen party.’

‘To celebrate the happy occasion,’ Anna said bitterly.

‘Because you’re my sister.’

Sophie’s voice trembled, and Anna felt a wave of regret so strong she felt as if it could knock her down.

How bad could it be? a little voice in her head reassured her. It’s time to move on.

‘Please,’ pleaded Sophie. ‘There are lots of people coming and they’re going to wonder why you’re not there . . .’

Anna snorted.

‘You almost had me there again, Soph.’ She shook her head ferociously. ‘You know, I don’t believe you’re a bad person. Just an extremely selfish one. You expect people to give, give, give. And you take, take, take, even things that aren’t or should never be yours, and you don’t care what depths you have to plumb to get what you want, because you expect them to be yours. The food column you lied to get your hands on – the editor told me all about your years of work in the Dorset Nurseries restaurant, which is funny, because I thought you were in Thailand while you were apparently sharpening knives in Dad’s kitchen. But then those came in handy, didn’t they, for when you stabbed me in the back and slept with my boyfriend. How many times did you tell me it happened? Once, twice? Funny, I don’t believe that any more.’

‘It was a handful of times,’ Sophie said sheepishly.

‘How long?’ Anna snapped, the details that she had never dared broach again suddenly seeming of urgent importance.

‘We were together for about two months before you found us.’

Anna inhaled sharply, and when she breathed out, she felt an enormous sense of relief.

‘I know all I need to know now. You can’t hurt me any more.’

‘Anna, please,’ said Sophie, grabbing her sister as she pushed past her at the side of the pool. Anna tried to shake her off, and as she did so Sophie slipped. In slow motion Anna saw her falling away from her, her arms waving, hands clutching at the air, her mouth in a perfect ‘O’, landing in the swimming pool with a huge splash.

‘Anna!’ shouted a voice. It was her mother, full of anger and disapproval and disappointment. ‘What have you done . . .?’

Anna ran so fast out of the spa, she didn’t hear another word of what her mother was about to say.