‘I’m just going to put my bags away in my bedroom, Mum.’ I try to laugh. ‘I’ll be, like, ninety seconds.’
‘You can’t,’ she says, sounding panicked.
I shake my head. ‘What? Why not?’
From across the room, Angela’s daughter Buffy appears from the kitchen. She’s smiling wickedly, eyes twinkling. She speaks and her voice is high and young. ‘Because it’s not your bedroom anymore. It’s mine.’
I feel my brow furrow as I turn to Mum. She looks at me pleadingly. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, Angela and Buffy moved in a week ago. You haven’t been home in years, I had no clue you were thinking of coming back, you didn’t… I didn’t… I’m so sorry, darling, there’s no bedroom for you here.’
Across the room, Buffy smirks, then frowns at me.
‘Er, why is your hand waving about in the air?’
Chapter FourJEMMA
I’m actually living inside my own nightmare.
Or I will be, once she finally gets here. Because ofcourseClara is late. She’s always late. She’s alate person.
Late people are the worst. The worst! They think it’s hilarious, this thing they’ve decided is a personality trait. News flash, it’snota personality trait, it’s just plain rude and inconsiderate. You’re leaving everyone waiting for you, as if their time isn’t as valuable as yours. Just because you couldn’t get up when your alarm went off. Or you wanted to stop for a coffee. Or you got distracted by some shiny thing on the way.
Clara always gets distracted by shiny things.
‘Should we be throwing some sort of housewarming, d’you reckon?’ Salma is looking at me quizzically, as she stirs her tea. It’s my mug she’s using, but I’m fine with that. Or at least I’malmostfine with it. Salma and I are working on me not letting small stuff like that get to me.
But it’s my favourite mug!
‘God, no.’ I shudder, trying to focus on the question, instead of the mug she’s now sipping out of. Ugh, now I want a cup of tea and I would’ve liked to drink it fromthatmug.
Never mind, it’s not important.
‘You only throw housewarmings for people you like. Y’know, for someone who is actually welcome in your home,’ I say moodily and Salma spits a bit of tea back into my cup.
‘You’re such a fecking bitch!’ she cackles, even though she is definitely the mean one in this friendship. ‘She’s your sister – yourtwinsister!’
‘Fraternal twin,’ I mutter, but Salma is undeterred.
‘This is her hour of need, Jem. You have to be there for your sister – yourtwinsister!’
Everyone does this. Everyone acts like being a twin is something momentous and holy. Some huge sacred duty bestowed from on high by the heavens and I should be blessed and honoured to sacrifice my whole life to ensure Clara’s happiness.
The trouble is, my twin sister is a selfish dick.
‘The only reason she’s moving in with us is because Mum didn’t give me an option,’ I warn. ‘She knew we’ve been looking for a fourth housemate and insisted on Clara having the room. She said it was the perfect solution to both our problems, and Clara would be somewhere safe, where she wouldn’t have to worry about her.’ I sigh. ‘I’ve never known Mum to be so pushy about something. Sheneverputs her foot down. But of course she did it for her darling, precious, little Clara.’
Salma raises her eyebrows at my bitter tone and slurps from the mug that means nothing to me, I’m fine with it. She grins. ‘Your generous mum has also – let’s not forget – given us three months’ rentup frontto cover the room. It’s not like we could’ve said no to that anyway!’
‘Blood money,’ I mutter furiously.
After Mum finally came clean last week, admitting to Clara that her old bedroom had been turned into Buffy’s shrine to Olivia Rodrigo, there were a lot of tears. Mostly from Clara, who acted like it was the biggest betrayal to ever befall a human being. How dare our mother get on with her life, five years after her adult daughter willingly moved abroad, hardly to be seen again.
Mum told her she could stay on the sofa for a few days, but there literally wasn’t anywhere else for her. My old bedroom has long since been a home office and is now full, floor to ceiling, with Angela and Buffy’s belongings. Clara wailed for an hour and Mum promised she’d make things right – offering to cover her rent while she got back on her feet.
And then Mum looked over at me and got this happy expression on her face. Which is when I should’ve fled the room, house, country.
Of course Salma and Harry loved the idea of Clara moving in. We got left in the lurch by the last guy, who moved out practically overnight. And you wouldn’t believe the number of weirdos who’ve so far called about the spare room. One bloke specifically needed to know if we ‘walked around in bare feet’ and another asked what our policy was on in-housenudism. The other day, I got quite close to offering the room to my bookish pen pal Karen while writing my latest note – I got that desperate! So, objectively, I can understand them being excited by the idea of Clara as a housemate. Who’d turn down a known entity that comes with a lump sum of rent?
Well,Iwould. Obviously.
