Page 5 of Good Sisters

I was worried that the funeral would overwhelm her and lead to a meltdown. I had to keep her calm. Keeping my voice soft and low, I tried to reassure her. ‘I know, darling, but there are only three more songs to go. I’ll tell you when to put the headphones back on. Now do your breathing – in for four, hold for two and out for four.’

I breathed in and out with her and, as she followed my lead, I saw her fists begin to unclench. I couldn’t manage a meltdown today – there was too much going on, too much to organize and oversee. I was hanging on by a thread and I needed to focus on my eulogy and do Mum proud.

The priest announced the bidding prayers. I nodded at Harry. He jumped up and led two of the triplets, Tom and then Christelle up to the altar. Why was Christelle going up? Why was Leo or Liam or Luke – I could never tell them apart – not going up? I had given Julie strict instructions. I had laid it all out in black and white. I had created a spreadsheet. All she had to do was get her sons to read a few lines, but somehow even that wasn’t possible with this lot. Could they ever just bloody well do what they were told?

The triplet left behind tried to trip Tom as he shuffled out of the bench on his way to the altar. Tom almost landed on his face, but Christelle managed to catch him by the belt and lead him away. She truly was a wonder. Harry’s teenage-holiday one-night stand had produced an incredible youngwoman we all loved. She was wonderful with Clara and had helped me enormously in those first few years after the diagnosis when she had minded Clara while I was at work.

I suddenly had a flashback to Mum and me sitting in the kitchen. Mum was leaning over her cup of Earl Grey – I could almost smell the distinct scent of her favourite tea, the memory was that vivid. In her usual blunt way Mum had told me she was very suspicious of Christelle. How did we know she was really Harry’s long-lost daughter? Some random eighteen-year-old girl with multiple piercings turns up out of the blue and Julie and Harry don’t even do a DNA test? It was utter lunacy …

‘But that’s your sister, always a soft touch, embracing this girl as if she’s her own flesh and blood. I don’t know, Louise. I just don’t want to see my Julie taken advantage of. If it was you or me, we’d have every test available done to prove paternity.’

Mum had been slow to embrace Christelle, but once she saw how fantastic she was with the triplets and Tom, then with Clara, she had softened and fallen for her just like the rest of us. She always said, ‘Christelle is lucky to have Julie as a stepmum. Julie is by far the most open and welcoming of all my children. She’s not tough like you.’

I wasn’t sure if that was meant as a compliment or an insult. But that was Mum: she had no filter and always gave you her opinion, whether it was asked for or not.

I forced my mind back to the church, to the here and now. Thankfully, the boys read their prayers well – their posh school was obviously rubbing off on them – and they spoke clearly and distinctly. Christelle read the last prayer and the boys managed to go back to their seats without wrestling each other.

A few minutes later, Jess and Sophie went up to read apoem together. Jess’s dress was ridiculously short – you could almost see the cheeks of her bum. Sophie really should have made her daughter wear something more appropriate. I don’t know how Jess was able to see the text with the false eyelashes she was wearing either. Why did teenage girls make themselves up like drag queens? Jess was beautiful, but it was hard to see it under all the fake tan, make-up and fake eyelashes that you could have swept the floor with. Mum would have had a few words to say seeing Jess so ‘dickied-up’ as she called it. She liked her to look natural and didn’t understand why her granddaughter plastered her lovely face with make-up and wore clothes that were ‘only fit for a street-walker’.

Sophie’s voice wobbled, but she got through it with Jess’s help. Jess held her mother’s hand as they walked back, crying, and sat down. I felt a small pang of envy. Clara would only hold my hand if it was the right temperature and completely dry, which was rare enough. Still, she allowed me to hug her, which I loved. Mum, Christelle, Gavin and I were the only people she’d allow to hug her. Now there were only three of us.

I glanced at Dad, who was staring straight ahead, still shell-shocked. It was our job to mind him now. I’d have to do up a rota of dinners and visits so he didn’t feel alone.

I heard the first note of the organ and told Clara to put on her headphones.

From the front row we could see everyone coming up to take communion. Pippa walked up, holding Robert’s hand. He was a gorgeous-looking little boy. Sophie bristled beside me. Pippa, Jack’s ex-girlfriend and mother of Sophie’s stepson Robert, was an enormous thorn in my sister’s side.

‘Who wears a skin-tight red dress to a funeral?’ she whispered.

‘It’s burgundy, to be fair,’ I said.

‘Bit of a MILF,’ Gavin said.

‘Shut up,’ Sophie grumbled.

‘It was nice of her to come,’ Julie said.

‘She only came because she’s dumping Robert on us today for two weeks while she goes away with her new boyfriend.’

‘Again?’ Julie whispered.

Sophie nodded.

‘But you’ve had him for the last month,’ Julie said.

‘She’s spent two days with him and now she’s off again. She fought so hard for shared custody yet Robert is with us ninety per cent of the time. It’s a joke, but Jack never says boo to her because she’s so bloody volatile.’ Sophie shook her head.

‘Poor little kid. He’s such a cutie, how could she not want to spend more time with him?’ Julie wondered.

‘Because she’s a selfish, self-centred bitch,’ Sophie muttered.

‘That’s ridiculous. Jack needs to sort that out. She has to adhere to the custody ruling,’ I reminded her.

Sophie sighed. ‘I know that, Louise, but Pippa is not someone you can reason with.’

I bit back what I really wanted to say, which was: For goodness’ sake, could Jack not grow a pair of balls and stand up to his ex-girlfriend? It wasn’t fair that Sophie was raising Pippa’s child. What I did say was: ‘Get your lawyer involved, then.’

‘Jack wants to keep it as amicable and peaceful as possible for Robert.’

---