‘Well, maybe if you didn’t lie to us about Greg being in Singapore then we wouldn’t have to pry!’ Bridget said, her voice wobbling as she reached for a drink.
Annie jerked back the glass, leaving Bridget hanging. ‘Have you been talking to Greg? I can’t believe my own twin would go behind my back like that!’
Bridget’s mouth fell open. ‘Of course I haven’t spoken to Greg! But we all follow him on Instagram, and, while my knowledge of Asia isn’t great, even I can figure out that “hashtag best spaghetti in Manhattan” is probably not referring to the little-known-because-it-doesn’t-exist suburb of Manhattan, Singapore.’
‘Why don’t you tell us what’s really going on, Young One?’ I asked, moving a cushion so that Annie could plop down next to me. ‘Whatever it is, we love you and we’re here for you and none of us are going to judge you, given some of the questionable choices we’ve all made lately.’
‘Ahem.’ Sofia looked at me, affronted. ‘What questionable choice have I made?’
‘You’ve just downed a glass of wine after nearly a decade sober. I can promise your head will be questioning you about it in the morning.’
‘It tasted nice.’
‘We could tell. Now, back to Annie…’
Annie took a handful of nachos and stuffed them in all at once, chewing aggressively, perfectly groomed eyebrows beetling.
‘Of course,’ Orla interjected, ‘if we were really worried, we might have to phone Greg after all.’
‘Or maybe we should ask Mamma if she’s got any idea why you’d be lying about Greg?’ Bridget mused.
‘Fine!’ Annie spluttered, spraying crumbs of tortilla chip across the table. ‘Things haven’t been… easy between us. And before you all start with how marriage isn’t easy and how does running away help and you’re hardly going to solve things by living on different continents, I know that.’ She paused, taking in a deep breath. ‘I know, okay? I didn’t come here to run away. And I had no intention of staying. The reasons I gave for staying were true. They just weren’t all the reasons.’
‘So, what are the other reasons, apart from being a selfless sister?’ Sofia asked, brushing up the sprayed chips with a napkin.
Annie, to our collective shock and amazement, burst into tears. ‘If I tell you you’ll hate me.’
‘We won’t hate you!’ I looped my arm around hers, pulling her up against my shoulder. We hadn’t seen Annie this upset since Mum told her she couldn’t get her belly button pierced (she was eleven at the time).
‘You won’t hate me,’ she choked through a face full of gloop. ‘Sofia will.’ And then she started crying so hard that only a twin could decode it.
‘He wants kids,’ Bridget said, her face screwed up in sympathy.
Annie nodded, grabbing another mouthful of nachos before wiping her eyes and nose. ‘Preferably as many as possible as soon as possible. He’s forty-four, after all, and isn’t “getting any younger”!’
‘Didn’t you discuss this before you got married?’ Sofia asked, gently.
‘We had ninety days to plan a wedding! We discussed it in the same way we discussed having a house with a porch swing to swing on when we were old and wrinkly. Or when he was, which of course will be two decades before me. More like three, given my skin-care routine and his work addiction. We discussed kids like we talked about how we’d celebrate Christmas and rent a beach cottage in the summer. None of it was real!’
‘It was clearly real to him.’ Bridget frowned.
‘So, what are you going to do?’ I asked. ‘Is the problem having kids, or having them now?’
Annie gave a miserable shrug.
‘Are you leaving him? Is that why you’re here?’
‘I don’t want to!’ she cried. ‘But I don’t know how we can solve this and I’m so, so scared he’s going to leave me.’
‘And how is you hiding here supposed to help that?’
‘Because then we can’t talk about it and I can’t tell him the real reason I don’t want kids, and he can’t leave me.’
‘So, what is the real reason?’ Bridget asked.
‘I’m definitely not going to talk to you about that when I haven’t spoken to him yet.’
‘Then you’d better book a plane ticket,’ Orla retorted.
