Chapter 2

You can't choose your famiy

CHAPTER TWO

I come from a small family, small in the nuclear sense that is; well, more atom sized. There may have been more branches to our family tree, but it was pruned ages ago. Aunt Jen was about the only family I had left, at least in Yewell, related by marriage to my gran's brother, Lewis, a union that endured for over fifty ears. My mum died ten years ago, from meningitis. I was fifteen. I don't have much to do with my father anymore; never have really.

Marcus Jackson married my mother, Elena, when they were very young, too young They quickly had my sister Cassandra, known to all as Casey, but separated when she was five years old. When they reunited two years later, I was born. It did not last.

Casey had moved to London by the time Mum died; window dressing for Selfridges in Oxford Street. She visited once or twice while our mother was in hospital, but was quick with excuses so she could get out of visiting. 'The smell in the hospital made her queasy; being around sick people made her skin crawl. ' Basically Casey was having too much fun in the city and didn't want to deal with real life. There was only one person who mattered in Caseyland, Casey herself.

My big sister has always been an air-head, a ditzy blonde, despite being mousy haired. I dye mine blonde and I'm the one with all the brains. She didn't want to be responsible for a teenager, I would have cramped her style. I didn't want to live in London; I was busy revising for my GCSE exams, so I moved in with Gran.

I don't often get to London; I don't drive and the train fare is too expensive. Casey has a husband and two kids, Jemima and Nicholas; She's always too busy to visit Yewell, even with an au pair to help out. We talk on the phone occasionally and email. She has a big town house complete with nanny-flat; I live in Swan Street in a shared house. Perry Hill lies between my place and Aunt Jen's bungalow in Richmond Street. I'm up top, she's down below.

What can I say about Perry Hill? It is steep, about one-in-three. The town square is at the top surrounded by a few shops and the library. Terraced houses line the sides of the hill and a farm sprawls at the bottom. Perry Hill is so steep the pavement actually rises in deep steps. Visiting Aunt Jen was a doddle, downhill all the way, but going home was a whole different story; a bit of a b***h in bad weather. When the temperature falls below zero in Winter, the good folk of Perry Hill have to get busy with the grit.

As I got home from work that evening the phone rang. It was Peggy Scott with news of Aunt Jen.

“She's still in the Assessment Unit”Peggy told me. “They're doing all sorts of tests. Did you know I used to be a nurse, Emily?”

I did.

“The tests they're doing, they worry me. They are more than is usual for a chest infection.”

“I'm sure the doctors know what they're doing, Peggy”. I tried to sound reassuring, as much for her sake as mine. But I found it hard to keep positive, especially as a sudden chill was spreading over my body.

“I think there's something else going on” Peggy continued. “Have you noticed she's lost weight?”

I hadn't. I thought Aunt Jen had gained back the weight she'd lost while caring for Uncle Lewis during his final weeks.

“Anyway” Peggy went on, “here's the number for the unit. Got a pen?”

I jotted the number down on the elephant shaped pad I kept by the phone. I liked elephants and had been given the pad by my niece and nephew for Christmas.

Peggy and I ended our call with promises to keep in touch and she hung up. The phone buzzed, line free. I silently read the number on the elephant note, a green one, and dialled each digit. When the hospital reception answered I asked for the Assessment Unit. The line rang and rang until I was just about ready to hang up.

“I'm ringing about my Aunt, Mrs Jennifer Beauchamp. She came in this afternoon.

“She's waiting for a bed on the ward” a kindly and efficient voice informed me. “We're doing some tests and making

her comfortable. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Tell her Emily called and I'll see her tomorrow” I said.

Ringing off I steadied myself to call my sister, Cassandra. We hadn't spoken in over a month. Casey has a selfish streak; she makes everything all about her. Even our mother's death. I knew this wouldn't be any different.

As usual Casey took ages to come to the phone, and when she spoke she sounded tired and waspish.

“Hi, Casey”. I was trying for bright and breezy, even though I felt neither.

“Keep it short, Em” she snapped, “I'm not in a chatty mood!”

“City life getting you down?” Still up beat.

“Jemima and Nicholas both have chickenpox, Christopher is away at a conference, and Amelie has just quit!”

I could almost see her ticking each complaint off on perfectly manicured fingers. “Here we go” I thought.

Amelie was the latest in a long line of nannies, or Au Pairs, as my sister liked to call them. They were all amply, or should I say, over-paid, courtesy of my brother-in-law's ridiculously large bank executives salary. None of the girls ever stayed for more than a few months. Casey would start off all sweetness and light, then quickly revert to her usual selfish persona, and Nanny would high-tail it home to whichever part of Europe she hailed from. My niece and nephew knew how to curse in several languages.

“Can you come and stay for a few days Em? Pretty please? I need you”, Casey pleaded.

“Sorry Casey. I really can't right now. That's why I …....”

“It's always about you, isn't it?” she whined. “No one even thought about me when Mum died. 'Cassandra will be OK. She's got her own life in London. What's to be done with poor little Emily?' It was all you!”

I took a deep breath and told her about Aunt Jen.

“Jen's in the best place” Casey retorted. “They'll zap her up with antibiotics and she'll be home in no time. I'm the one in trouble. I really need you!”

I often feel that I'm the older sister, despite the seven year age gap. Casey was always hard work. She used to make me feel that I was the reason for our parents divorce. They married so young, maybe they just grew up and grew apart. I don't know. Casey didn't help matters, maybe. Perhaps their rocky relationship was responsible, in part for her being at the centre of her own universe; all life revolves around Casey. She had histrionics for the slightest of reasons; exams and boyfriend troubles being the worst.

“Aunt Jen needs me here” I told her firmly. “I'm all she's got.”

“She's got tons of friends, and that vicar. You can spare a few days, Em” my sister cajoled. “I need you. I can't cope on my own!”

“Our mother did!” I retorted just before I lost patience and slammed down the phone.

A conversation with my sister always left me feeling drained and this one had been more fraught than most.

I was just filling the kettle for a much needed cuppa when the kitchen door swung ajar, and a hand appeared waving a white towel. I recognised it, the towel that is. It bore a picture of a unicorn and the slogan ' It's not okay to be gay, it's mandatory'.

“Permission to darken the threshold?” a voice called.

The hand belonged to Dolly, my colleague, best friend, and house mate. The towel had been a Christmas present.

“You okay, Belle?” he asked, stepping inside and tucking the towel into the waistband of his doe-coloured Chinos. “You seemed to be on another planet this afternoon.”

He had recently taken to calling me Belle. It means 'beautiful' in Italian, which Dolly was learning so he could converse with his web-friend, Francesco.

I plucked another mug from the mug tree and told Dolly about Aunt Jen. Now he was worried too. Aunt Jen had been our headmistress at primary school, but their relationship went beyond that. We had shared loads of treats and outings as kids. Uncle Lewis and Aunt Jen were childless, but they made up for it with Casey and me, and usually included Dolly too. Uncle Lewis understood Dolly and became his mentor. He helped Dolly work through his feelings, his confusion during adolescence, his homosexuallity. Lewis and Jen accepted him for who he was, even when his own family struggled.

Dolly had been there for Aunt Jen when Uncle Lewis' health had begun to fail, right through to the end. And he would be there for me, whatever the future held.