The Art of Friendship. Erin Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ her tone and added, ‘Dinner’s almost ready. Hurry up and come down.’

      Back in the kitchen, Patsy lifted a sizzling chicken and broccoli bake from the oven and set it on a trivet on the table, along with a dish of rice and one of sweetcorn.

      Sometimes the girls irritated her no end, like just now, but she wouldn’t be without them. Her life was full, what with working at the gallery, running the home and making time for her circle of loyal friends. She particularly enjoyed running the gallery and she was justly proud of her success which had been achieved through sheer hard work. She’d started the gallery seven years ago, after a break from work to raise the girls, with a small business loan from the bank. She’d built it from nothing, ending up with an enviable clientele of loyal customers and a rounded portfolio of artists. She was proud of the fact that she’d repaid the bank loan within three years.

      But it was her family which gave purpose to Patsy’s day. It was Martin and the girls that made her want to get out of bed in the morning. She would do anything for them.

      Patsy filled a plate for Martin, who’d just phoned to say he would be late. She covered the food with metal foil and placed it in a low oven to stay warm.

      As well as making a significant contribution to the family income, the gallery was her insurance against empty-nest syndrome, the idea being that it would keep her too busy to miss the girls when they eventually left home. But her nest was far from empty and it looked like staying that way for the foreseeable future. She and Martin might never be rid of the girls! At least that was what she joked over a glass of wine in company. Truth was, she didn’t want them to leave home. She wanted them to stay right where they were.

      Not that she would ever admit this, not even to Martin. She didn’t want to be seen to be holding the girls back in any way. But at the end of the day, all that really mattered to Patsy was family. And with her parents both dead, and her siblings living overseas, family meant Martin and the girls.

      Sarah had gone off to do nursing at Queen’s in Belfast three years ago but, after graduation last summer, she’d been driven back home by low wages and the high cost of living. By the time she’d paid for her car (essential to commute to Antrim Hospital where she worked), clothes, entertainment and the rest of it – she paid no board at home – there was nothing left at the end of the month.

      Patsy encouraged Sarah to spend, told her she deserved ‘treats’ and plugged the holes in her daughter’s shaky finances. In short, Patsy made sure life at home was very comfortable for Sarah. No girl in her right mind would give it all up to go and live in some grotty bedsit in Antrim where she would struggle to make ends meet.

      So, just as Laura prepared to embark on a life outside the family home at the University of Ulster, Coleraine, Sarah had come back to fill her shoes. Patsy knew she couldn’t hold onto the girls for ever, and she truly wanted the best for them – good careers, happy marriages and healthy children. But she made no apologies for trying to keep them with her just as long as she could.

      The door overhead slammed shut and Patsy sat down at the table, calmly filled her plate and began to eat.

      Sarah padded noiselessly into the room, wearing black tracksuit bottoms and a pair of battered, sand-coloured shearling boots on her feet. Her long auburn hair hung loose, framing a perfect oval face, delicate mouth and green almond-shaped eyes. She pulled at the sleeves of her hoodie, stretching them down her long arms to the knuckles, as though the backs of her hands were cold. At five foot ten Sarah towered over her mother and her figure was lithe like a cat. Nothing like Patsy at all, who had always struggled with her weight. She thanked God that both girls had inherited their father’s ‘slim’ genes. Sarah flopped into a seat and piled her plate with food.

      Laura appeared soon after, dressed in tight jeans and a canary yellow angora sweater. She gave her sister a narrowed-eyed glare and sat down opposite her at the table. Laura was shorter and slimmer than her sister, blonde where Sarah was a red-head and her prettiness was of a different nature, emanating more from her vibrant personality than classical good looks. And while Laura hadn’t inherited Patsy’s frame she had inherited her mother’s bosom, giving her the most amazing Barbie-doll figure, with an incredibly slim frame and disproportionately large breasts. That chest could turn heads – Patsy had seen it in action on Ballyfergus High Street.

      Laura sighed softly at the sight of the food. ‘This looks delish. Thanks, Mum.’

      ‘Yeah, thanks Mum,’ chimed Sarah.

      ‘You’re both welcome,’ said Patsy. ‘But I wish you two would stop fighting. It gives me indigestion.’

      Immediately Laura, always the one to cave in first, addressed Sarah. ‘Can I borrow your straighteners, please?’

      ‘Course you can,’ returned Sarah, fast as a tennis ball.

      Laura stared at her sister, her clear hazel eyes wide like saucers. ‘What was all the fuss about upstairs, then?’

      ‘You didn’t say please,’ said Sarah quietly, a sly smile creeping onto her lips.

      ‘You’re a big kid, Sarah. Do you know that?’ said Patsy, starting to giggle and soon the three of them were laughing uncontrollably. Patsy held her hand over her belly and, said, ‘You two crack me up, you really do.’

      When they’d quietened down, Laura helped herself to some food and asked, ‘When’s Dad coming home?’

      Patsy glanced involuntarily at the clock. ‘Don’t know. He’s going to be late again.’

      ‘He’s always late,’ said Sarah, her mouth full of food. ‘These days anyway.’

      Patsy paused, considering this. Sarah was right. Martin had been getting in later and later, rarely making it home before eight. He blamed it on pressure at the bank in Belfast where he worked and the ever-worsening commuter traffic that clogged up the city’s arteries like cholesterol.

      ‘Is everything alright, Mum?’ said Laura, helping herself to more chicken. ‘I mean with Dad.’

      ‘Of course it is. He’s just busy, that’s all,’ she said, the maternal instinct to protect them springing forth. Some habits were hard to shake.

      She pushed her plate away, the food like a balled fist in her stomach while the girls ate in silence. Since Christmas, Martin had been withdrawn, uncommunicative. She’d put it down to the January blues and, if truth be told, she’d been so busy she hadn’t really paid too much attention. Was it just work, like he said? Or something more sinister? She glanced at the clock again. Could he be having an affair? Her heart stopped, started again. She shook the notion off energetically like water from an umbrella.

      ‘Where are you off out tonight?’ said Sarah to her younger sister, scraping her plate clean.

      ‘A crowd of us are going round to Catherine’s to watch a DVD.’

      ‘Tell me something, Laura,’ said Sarah. ‘If you’re just going to watch a DVD at Catherine’s what d’you need to straighten your hair for?’ Sarah winked at Patsy. ‘Will Kyle Burke be there?’

      Laura blushed, still young enough to be embarrassed by a crush on the best-looking boy at St Pat’s. ‘He might be,’ she said casually, looking at her plate. ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Leave her alone, Sarah, will you?’ said Patsy, standing up and carrying her plate over to the sink. ‘Come СКАЧАТЬ