The Woman Who Went to Bed for a Year Read Free Page A

the bed, saying, ‘No, Poppy. I
can do it.’ She thought that when Poppy had gone, she would arrange her clothes
to her own satisfaction.
    Poppy opened a jewellery box decorated in tiny pearlised
shells and began to try on various pieces. She pulled out the silver bracelet
with the three charms: a moon, a sun and a star.
    The bracelet had been bought by Eva in late August to
celebrate Brianne’s five A*s at A level. Brian Junior had already lost the
cufflinks his mother had given him to commemorate his six A*s.
    ‘I’ll borrow this,’ Poppy said.
    ‘No!’ Brianne shouted. ‘Not that! It’s precious to
me.’ She took it from Poppy and slipped it on to her own wrist.
    Poppy said, ‘Omigod, you’re such a materialist.
Chill out.’
    Meanwhile, Brian Junior paced up and down in his
shockingly tiny room. It took only three steps to move from the door to the
window He wondered why his mother had not rung as she had promised.
    He had unpacked earlier and everything had been
neatly put away. His pens and pencils were lined up in colour order, starting
with yellow and finishing with black. It was important to Brian Junior that a
red pen came exactly at the centre of the line.
    Earlier that day, once the twins’ belongings had
been brought up from the car, their laptops were being charged, and the new
Ikea kettles, toasters and lamps had been plugged in, Brian, Brianne and Brian
Junior had sat in a line on Brianne’s bed with nothing to say to each other.
    Brian had said, ‘So,’ several times.
    The twins were expecting him to go on to speak, but
he had relapsed into silence.
    Eventually, he cleared his throat and said, ‘So, the
day has come, eh? Daunting for me and Mum, and even more so for you two — standing
on your own two feet, meeting new people.’
    He stood up and faced them. ‘Kids, make a bit of an
effort to be friendly to the other students. Brianne, introduce yourself, try
to smile. They won’t be as clever as you and Brian Junior, but being clever isn’t
everything.’
    Brian Junior said, in a flat tone, ‘We’re here to
work, Dad. If we needed “friends” we’d be on Facebook.’
    Brianne took her brother’s hand and said, ‘It might
be good to have a friend, Bri. Y’know, like, somebody I could talk to about…’
She hesitated.
    Brian supplied, ‘Clothes and boys and hairdos.’
    Brianne thought, ‘Ugh! Hairdos? No, I’d want to talk
about the wonders of the world, the mysteries of the universe.’
    Brian Junior said, ‘We can make friends once we ye
obtained our doctorates.’
    Brian laughed, ‘Loosen up, BJ. Get drunk, get laid,
hand an essay in late, for once. You’re a student, steal a traffic cone!’
    Brianne looked at her brother. She could no more
imagine him roaring drunk with a traffic cone on his head than she could see him
on that stupid programme Strictly Come Dancing, clad in lime-green
Lycra, dancing the rumba.
    Before Brian left, there were some badly executed
hugs and backslaps. Noses were kissed instead of lips and cheeks. They trod on
each other’s toes in their haste to leave the cramped room and get to the lift.
Once there, they waited an interminable time for the lift to travel up six
floors. They could hear it wheezing and grinding its way towards them.
    When the doors opened, Brian almost ran inside. He
waved goodbye to the twins and they waved back. After a few seconds, Brian
stabbed at the Ground Floor button, the doors closed and the twins did a high
five.
    Then the lift returned with Brian its captive.
    The twins were horrified to see that their father
was crying. They were about to step in when the doors crushed shut, and the
lift jerked and groaned itself downstairs.
    ‘Why is Dad crying?’ asked Brian Junior.
    Brianne said, ‘I think it’s because he’s sad we’ve
left home.’
    Brian Junior was amazed. ‘And is that a normal response?’
    ‘I think so.’
    ‘Mum didn’t cry when we said goodbye.’
    ‘No, Mum thinks tears should be reserved