Me and My Sisters (41 page)

‘I was very lonely in the beginning. When Jess was small and I wasn’t coping very well, before I went on Prozac, I used to –’

‘
What?
’ Louise and I stopped drinking and stared at her.

‘Oh, God.’ She put her hand over her mouth.

‘You were on Prozac?’ I was shocked. Sophie was always so together, so perfect, never a hair out of place, and Jess was an angel child.

Sophie blushed and fiddled with her ring. ‘Yes – I was on it for a year after Jess was born. She was quite colicky in the beginning and Jack didn’t understand. He thought the baby would just slot into our lives and nothing would change. I found trying to be the perfect wife and mother really difficult. I got depressed and was crying all the time and even getting dressed seemed like a huge ordeal, so I went to my GP and he put me on Prozac.’

‘Why did you never tell us?’ Louise asked.

Sophie shrugged. ‘I guess I was embarrassed. You’ve never needed help for anything, Louise – you’re so bright and smart and capable – and Julie was bringing up triplets and not having to take anti-depressants. I had just one child and was unable to cope.’

‘Oh, Sophie, I wasn’t coping well at all. I wish I’d taken Prozac – it would probably have made the first year more bearable,’ I admitted.

‘After three months of hell with Clara crying all night, I would definitely have ended up on Prozac if I hadn’t got her sorted out,’ Louise said.

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Sophie said. ‘Look at you now with Clara. You’re still doing your high-powered job and managing to juggle it with motherhood.’

‘I’m not really managing,’ Louise said. ‘I never knew how needy and all-consuming babies are. I’m struggling – I’m not at my best in work any more and I’m missing out on seeing my baby all week.’

‘What’s the solution?’ I asked. If anyone had one, it was Louise.

‘I’m trying to figure it out. I love my job and I’ve worked so hard to get where I am that I don’t want to give it up. Besides, I need to work to support Clara. But I miss her. A lot of the time when I leave in the morning she’s still asleep and then when I come home she’s usually asleep too. I hate that. I love being with her – she’s so adorable now, all smiley and cooing and gorgeous.’

Sophie and I grinned across the table at each other.

‘I think someone’s in love,’ I said, squeezing Louise’s hand.

‘Yes, I am, completely and utterly,’ she said, her eyes filling. ‘It kind of crept up on me and then,
bam
, I was besotted with her. Suddenly it wasn’t all about trying to stop her crying or what time she needed to be fed, it was about staring at her beautiful face and cuddling her and smelling her and going for naps with her in my bed and watching her sleeping and thinking my heart was going to burst.’ She took a gulp of her wine.

‘Welcome to motherhood.’ I hugged her.

‘But what am I going to do?’ she asked. ‘I want to spend more time with her.’

‘What would your ideal set-up be?’ Sophie asked.

Louise thought for a moment. ‘To be able to do what I do but with more flexible hours. To be my own boss, I suppose.’

‘Well, could you set up on your own?’ I asked.

Louise shook her head. ‘There’s too much competition in London. I’d have to work twice as hard to bring in clients. I’d never see Clara.’

‘What about in Dublin?’ Sophie wondered.

We all looked at one another in silence.

‘That’s a
great
idea,’ I burst out. ‘Come back and let Clara hang out with her cousins and her aunties and Gavin and her grandparents. I’d love it if you did. We could be single parents together.’

Louise looked shocked. ‘I’ve never considered coming back to Dublin. I don’t know why, I suppose because I consider London my home. I’m not sure, though. How much work would I get as a solo corporate lawyer? I’d have to find a niche market I could tap into. It wouldn’t be easy – I don’t have a profile in Dublin but I have a big one in London.’

‘Don’t rule it out, Lou,’ I said. ‘Just think about it. It would be so great to have you home, and really good for Clara to have close family around.’

‘I’d love her to get to know her cousins and grandparents better, but I’m not sure about the career side of things in Dublin.’

‘Louise, if anyone can make it work, you can. It probably won’t be easy but when has that stopped you doing anything?’ Sophie asked her.

‘Tell you what, I’ll look into it, put some feelers out and see what happens. Who knows? It could work.’ She raised her glass to us.

‘What would your ideal situation be?’ I asked Sophie.

She looked down at her wine. ‘To stop hating Jack. To stop blaming him for losing all our money when it wasn’t really his fault. To be a good role model to Jess, which I now know I wasn’t. I was filling her head with rubbish about money and diamonds. It was completely unintentional, but she was watching the way I lived my life and soaking it all in. I’m ashamed of some of the things I said to her. So I suppose that’s one good thing to come out of this fiasco. I’m showing my daughter a more realistic version of life and teaching her proper values. I’m also enjoying being independent. I’m finding myself again. I’m stepping out of Jack’s shadow, which is quite liberating, actually. The downside is that we’re getting on incredibly badly. I wish we could get back to how we were. I do still love him, but there’s a lot of resentment and anger in me and I need to let it go. It’s poisonous and it’s ruining our marriage.’

‘What about you, Julie?’ Louise asked.

I looked at my sisters. ‘I used to wish for a bigger house, a nicer car, to be thinner, to have money in the bank, for the boys to be in school until six p.m. every night, and for Harry to get a big promotion and a huge salary rise. But now … all I want is my husband back. I want the man I married, my children’s dad, my Harry to come home to me.’

‘But what would you like for you – for yourself?’ Sophie gently probed.

I sat back and thought about it. ‘I think I’d like a part-time job and to make enough money so I can treat the kids to new bikes, pay for a family holiday every year, buy myself some new clothes and get a decent washing-machine.’

‘What kind of a job?’ Louise pushed me.

‘I don’t know. Something to do with books or writing. Maybe I could be a librarian … or write a blog or a column or something. I don’t know. I’m not qualified to do much – I haven’t worked for years – but I do love writing.’ I blushed. It felt strange to admit how much my writing had meant to me these past few months. ‘Anyway, they’re all pie-in-the-sky dreams – who would hire me?’

‘If I can get a job, anyone can,’ Sophie said.

‘I’ll help you with your CV,’ Louise offered.

I held up my glass. ‘Thanks, guys. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank God I have sisters. You’ve been so supportive and helpful and kind and generous, coming here with me to hold my hand. I really appreciate it.’

Sophie raised her glass too. ‘If it wasn’t for you two, I’d be living on the street and back on Prozac. You’ve both helped me get back on my feet.’

Now Louise picked up hers. ‘And you both helped me get through the first months of having a baby and managed to keep Mum from finding out Clara is the product of a one-night stand. So I’m really grateful too.’

‘To sisters,’ I said, and we clinked glasses.

Louise looked at her watch. ‘Shit! It’s seven forty – we need to go.’

I stood up, but my legs crumpled. Sophie and Louise caught me. They tucked an arm each around my waist and half carried me out to a taxi.

Ten minutes later we were sitting in a corner in the Café Le Petit Pont. We were the only people inside – everyone else was on the terrace enjoying the warm night. We had a perfect spot from which we could watch everyone outside without being seen.

‘Do you think that’s her?’ Sophie asked, as a tall, willowy girl with short black hair and a lot of black eye makeup sat down at a table on her own. She was the only person not in a group. It was ten to eight.

‘It can’t be. She’s too young and she’s no
femme fatale
,’ Louise said. The girl was wearing jeans and flip-flops with a plain white T-shirt.

‘Oh, my God,
that
’s her!’ Sophie squealed.

We looked around and saw a stunning blonde woman of about thirty, walking a poodle, approach the café. She was wearing a red sundress. It was tight and really sexy and her pert, perfectly round boobs were peeping out of the top. She had red lipstick to match and really high red shoes. Every man in the café turned to stare at her. She sat down at a table on her own and plonked her pooch on the chair beside her.

There was a deathly silence at our table. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ I whispered.

Louise and Sophie grabbed my hands. ‘She’s nothing but a tart,’ Louise hissed.

‘She looks cheap,’ Sophie huffed.

‘She’s trying way too hard,’ Louise added.

‘She’s stunning,’ I sobbed.

Sophie grabbed a napkin and tried to stop my tears. ‘Don’t cry yet.’

Then Harry walked around the corner and my heart stopped. He looked around. I could see he was nervous. When he clapped eyes on the sexy woman, he smiled shyly and walked towards her.

‘
Noooo
,’ I wailed.

He didn’t sit down with the sex-bomb. He went over to the table behind her, where the girl in the jeans and T-shirt with the short hair was sitting.

‘Bastard! She’s young enough to be his daughter,’ I said, jumping up and bolting out to the terrace, followed by my two sisters. ‘HARRY!’ I shouted, and all the people on the terrace turned to stare. ‘YOU ARE A PIG! HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON ME WITH THIS CHILD? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? I WAS A GOOD WIFE AND I’VE PUT UP WITH A LOT OF SHIT, BUT NOT THIS, HARRY,
NOT THIS
. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO CHEAT ON ME WITH SOME FRENCH … PIXIE. I WON’T BE MADE A FOOL OF.’

Harry was paralysed. ‘Julie? How did you –’

‘HOW DID I KNOW?’ I roared. ‘I’LL TELL YOU EXACTLY HOW I KNEW. YOU’VE BEEN DISTANT AND GRUMPY AND SECRETIVE AND A REAL ARSEHOLE TO LIVE WITH, THAT’S HOW I KNEW, AND THEN I SAW THE TEXTS AND THE EMAILS.’ I turned to the girl, shook my finger in her face and bellowed, ‘OH, YES, MISS
CHRISTELLE
, I KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU AND YOUR SECRET MEETING AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW YOU’RE A HOME-WRECKER. DID HE TELL YOU HE HAS FOUR CHILDREN? FOUR CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF FIVE? DID HE MENTION THAT? DID HE TELL YOU THAT I HAVE BEEN A LOYAL, LOVING AND DEVOTED WIFE – OK, I ADMIT I HAVE ALSO BEEN VOLATILE AND HORMONAL AT TIMES, BUT, COME ON, WHO WOULDN’T BE WITH TRIPLETS AND A TODDLER TO BRING UP?’

‘
Triplés
?’ the sex-bomb in the red dress said. ‘
Elle a bien dit triplés
?’ she asked Louise.

‘Yes, she has triplets and another small boy.’

‘
Mon Dieu!
’ she exclaimed. ‘
Et ça c’est la maîtresse de son mari
?’ She looked surprised.

‘Yes, that’s his mistress,’ Sophie told her.

‘
Mais c’est un enfant!
’ a man at another table huffed.

‘Yes, she is very young – we’re shocked too,’ Sophie agreed.

Everyone in the café began to talk about the situation, and soon they were shouting, mostly at Harry. There was lots of ‘
idiot
’ and ‘
imbécile
’ and ‘
crétin
’. One man even said, ‘
Il est fou – sa femme est magnifique
.’

‘Did you hear that, Julie?’ Louise said. ‘That man said you were magnificent.’

‘
Merci
,’ I said.

Harry grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘Julie,’ he said, trying to get my attention as the French people shouted their support to me and abuse at him. ‘Julie! I can’t believe you think I’m having an affair.’

‘What would you like to call it, Harry? A liaison? A – a –
tryst
?’

‘Christelle isn’t my mistress.’

‘Oh, my God, she’s a prostitute?’

‘I certainly am not.’ Christelle was highly offended.

‘JULIE!’ Harry shouted to get my attention. ‘Christelle is my daughter.’

My chin hit the floor. ‘WHAT?’

‘Daughter?’ Louise and Sophie exclaimed.

‘
Elle n’est pas sa maîtresse, elle est sa fille
,’ the sex-bomb in the red dress informed the terrace.

‘Ah.’ They nodded, intrigued.

‘DAUGHTER!’ I stared at Harry and then at Christelle, who was glaring at me.

‘Yes, you crazy woman. I’m Harry’s daughter.’

I turned to Harry. ‘But … how?’

‘Nineteen years ago I spent my college summer holidays in New York and I had a relationship with an American girl. Christelle is the result. But I had absolutely no idea she existed until a few months ago when she tracked me down. Her mum moved from New York to Paris eight years ago, and when Christelle turned eighteen, she decided to find me.’

‘
Je ne comprends pas
.’ The sex-bomb tugged Louise’s arm.

‘Um, Harry had
le sexe avec une fille
when he was a teenager
et Christelle est le bébé de la fille
.’

‘
Ah, d’accord
.’ The lady in red translated for the others and they all threw their hands into the air, smiled and nodded.

‘So you’re not cheating on me?’ I asked Harry.

‘I would never cheat on you, Julie. I love you. I always told you I felt as if I’d punched above my weight when I married you.’

‘You did. Julie’s amazing,’ Louise piped up.

‘One of a kind. A gem,’ Sophie added.

‘Jesus, Harry,’ I groaned, ‘why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been so upset – I’ve been heartbroken.’

‘I’m sorry, I wanted to meet Christelle in person before telling you. I didn’t want to land this on you without knowing what she was like and if she even wanted to meet my other kids. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to it all.’

‘I’ve been so miserable,’ I bawled.

Harry wrapped his arms around me. ‘Julie, you’re my life, I’d never hurt you. I’m sorry about all this.’ Then, turning to my sisters, he said sternly, ‘And as for you two, I would have thought you’d have had the decency to give me the benefit of the doubt. How could you think I’d cheat on Julie?’